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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23543590">His Name Is No One</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockWords/pseuds/ClockWords'>ClockWords</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Chucker College AU [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red vs. Blue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Church is Bad at Feelings, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Content isn’t super explicit but it’s definitely there, Sexual References, Tucker is confused but he knows he loves Church, Tucker’s wonderful little sister Lavender, this had way more world building than I planned</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:03:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,476</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23543590</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockWords/pseuds/ClockWords</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tucker hits it to college, and has one hell of a roommate. </p><p> </p><p>He’s confused as to why his roommate has ridiculously pretty eyes.</p><p>UPDATE: PART TWO IS OUT! Check the profile for it!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Leonard L. Church/Lavernius Tucker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Chucker College AU [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871137</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>His Name Is No One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I’m here to fucking deliver.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>     Tucker was so ready for college. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He grew up in a small town, and he was ready to finally see something new. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The semester was just starting. The seasons rolled into fall, the leaves just starting to turn. The sidewalks around the campus had a growing collection of oranges and yellows and beautiful crisp browns, the colors ready to greet students with the soft sounds of </span>
  <em>
    <span>crunch, crunch, crunch. </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   Tucker had already toured the campus; a year in advance. He knew this place was going to feel like home in a matter of days. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Chorus University had an odd reputation. It was well known for their robotics programs, along with their engineering and chemistry graduates. Chorus was also known for the </span>
  <em>
    <span>massive </span>
  </em>
  <span>parties thrown there; hence why Tucker applied. Raves, beer parties, concerts and </span>
  <em>
    <span>lots </span>
  </em>
  <span>of club events. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   It was rather small, for a university, but beautiful nonetheless, and located smack in the middle of the city of Armonia. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Armonia was… a long way from home, Tucker realized. This fact was positive, in multiple ways. But it also had many downsides; living 700 miles away from the nearest relative being one for them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker had all his things outside the dorm, which was a mere 2 backpacks and one cardboard moving box, all three filled with personal items. Tucker had a third backpack slung over his shoulder, his hand coming up and turning the handle that led to his room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   And evidently his roommate as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker’s shoulder that held his bag went slack, his eyebrow shooting up in question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   His (what he assumed to be) roommate was on the phone, the man pacing back and forth. The constant movement was slowly making Tucker anxious as he moved faster and faster, the unknown man’s voice rising as he spoke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “How in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell </span>
  </em>
  <span>do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>lose a 7 foot suitcase?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He snarled, not even taking notice of Tucker’s entrance. “Tell them to get it here </span>
  <em>
    <span>now. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I have shit in there that absolutely can</span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>see the light of day with prying eyes!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Well </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>made Tucker curious. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Definitely porn.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker took this opportunity to really look at this piece of work he’d have to call his roommate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Dark, near jet black shaggy hair. Tucker noticed it looked soft, clean. Long in the front, short in the back. He had thin, black glasses lining his eyes, which made it rather difficult to see their color with the added factor of his long bangs. The glasses reflected light from the ceiling fan, giving a sharper look to his roommate’s glare. Once the man stood still long enough while listening to whoever he was talking to, Tucker could see the dark green of his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Pretty.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker also noticed the very high chance that this dude hasn’t slept right in </span>
  <em>
    <span>weeks. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His skin was rather pale, which left no coverage for the dark circles under those pretty eyes. He wore a light blue hoodie that was well worn (odd, almost purposely torn holes where the drawstrings </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>be, but aren’t ), along with black skinny jeans that were </span>
  <em>
    <span>shredded</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the knees.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Those jeans are literally just torn pieces of cloth sewn together what the fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   But he has some nice legs, god damn-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey</span>
  </em>
  <span>, what the fuck are you staring at?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   This new voice snapped Tucker out of his thoughts, Tucker gripping the sling of his bag as he refocused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   His roommate had hung up on his caller, unbeknownst to Tucker. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Uh. I’m your roommate. Lavernius Tucker, if you will.” He said with a smirk, rolling the sleeve of his teal hoodie up to offer his hand in a shake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The man only glowered. “Fuck off. I’m not your little </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So don’t expect me to act like it.” He puts his phone in his back pocket, shoving his hands into the soft pocket of his hoodie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Of course. Of course he has to be pretty </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>an asshole. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker lowered his arm, letting it drop to his side as he now wore a rather unamused expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “..Right. Can I at least get your nam-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Church. Just call me Church.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The man, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Church, </span>
  </em>
  <span>turned his back to Tucker before moving to what he had already claimed as his side of the room in a flurry of odd hand gestures and twitching. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Okay… Church. Did you uh, lose your luggage?” Tucker tried, gently placing his bag on his new dorm bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...Yes. It’s the only piece of shit I brought with me to this damned place.” He muttered, pulling his phone out and typing like a maniac. He didn’t spare Tucker a glance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker sighed, then went back to the hallway to gather his remaining items. He slung the two backpacks on, one on each shoulder, then hoisted up the box to his front. Tucker carried everything in before dropping them onto the soft bed; backpacks at the pillows and cardboard box in the center. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>   The dorm was rather small. But it had two desk areas, along with two beds and two (very small) dressers. The colors, Tucker thought, all went pleasantly together. The walls were a pale gray, the desks and dressers a coal black. There was a window and curtain that matched the furniture, pulling the room together in a nicely modern build. The A.C was on, despite the weather being in the mid 50s. Tucker wondered if that was Church’s doing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Why did you only bring one bag?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   It was several seconds before Church put his phone up to respond, a biting glare in his eyes. Initially, Tucker didn’t expect him to respond at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I only have a few things to drag out here. Clothes, and other shit you don’t need to fuckin’ know about.” He glared, sitting his ass on his bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Dude, it’s cool if you brought a ton of porn with you. I get i-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Jesus it’s not porn, you idiot.” Church seethed, baring his teeth in a snarl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Like a bear… or a cat?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Okay okay, damn, sorry about your not-porn…” Tucker pulled out some of his clothing; thick t-shirts and several hoodies (along with several interchangeable piercings and his nicer, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sluttier </span>
  </em>
  <span>stuff for the parties), and placed them into his new dresser. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “What’s so important that you have to hide like it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>porn?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “God you ask a lot of fucking questions.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “And you’re kinda rude.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church only rolled his eyes at that. Before Tucker knew it, his roommate was back on his phone as he sat with zero regard to Tucker.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>—————————————— </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   It was two weeks before Church finally got his giant-ass suit case. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>  In those two weeks, Church wore and rewashed the same hoodie and jeans that Tucker met him in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>  Also in those two weeks, Tucker had offered to share some clothes until Church received his missing luggage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   That got Tucker a pencil being thrown at him with terrifyingly accurate precision, the pencil having lodged into the wall behind Tucker. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker also never got to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>what the hell </span>
  </em>
  <span>was in that suitcase. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—————————————</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   Tucker’s schedule was perfect. Classes in the morning, even if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>really hated mornings. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But this scheduling got all the bullshit out of the way, so Tucker could do what he </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>wanted to do, and that was party. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Or so he thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   There’s a lot more studying than I expected. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Of course you have to study, dumbass.” Church had said, his happy little self planted at his desk while his shoulders were hunched forward (in a painful looking manner, Tucker thought) as he worked. Tucker was at his bed, back against the black headboard with his knees pulled up to support his text book. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I know, but like.. </span>
  <em>
    <span>all the time? </span>
  </em>
  <span>When do people have time to party?” Tucker complained, head dropping back against the hard wall and his eyes shooting up to the ceiling. A scowl rested easily on his dark face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church stopped writing, suddenly silent for a few seconds before speaking again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Of-fucking-course you just came here to party…” he grumbled, letting his writing resume. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “The hell is that supposed to mean?” Tucker questioned, “Fuck yeah I came to party! That’s the point, dude. Party, girls, and alcohol. What the fuck else do you come here for?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker tensed at a small, almost soft growl heard from across the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>  “Just.. shut the fuck up so I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>work.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>   Church had his classes in the morning as well, and almost never left the dorm. When he did, it was to get coffee; always black and bitter, Tucker noticed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   His coffee’s a lot like him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker noticed, in just a couple weeks, that Church was a neat freak and a workaholic. Tucker didn’t really mind the neat freak, however. It meant that their dorm would always remain clean, but it also meant Tucker had to keep </span>
  <em>
    <span>his side </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the dorm clean, too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   However, the workaholic aspect of his roommate drove him nuts. Tucker soon learned that the more Church worked, the nastier and more impatient he got.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   If that’s even possible. </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>————————————</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   After a month and a half, Tucker’s officially immune to Church’s glaring and snarling. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>   In fact, he felt that he could translate them rather well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Fuck off </span>
  </em>
  <span>actually meant </span>
  <em>
    <span>You can stay, just be quiet</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Get the fuck away from me</span>
  </em>
  <span> actually meant </span>
  <em>
    <span>If you’re gonna be here, be productive.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker was a little rusty on the rest of the Language of Church, though. In the weeks that came, he learned that Church was a rather complicated specimen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church was easily irritated, yet, in a way, craves company. But he was just picky about whose company he wanted. Church’s bitterness, Tucker has realized, was mostly a test. A test to see who will stick around. Which, to Tucker, was a shitty way of “making friends”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   If you can even call it that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Dude. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dude. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I need help.” Tucker whined, sitting at his own desk with a lamp on over his papers. It was already midnight, and Tucker desperately wanted to sleep. Church, on the other hand, had different plans. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Fuck off. Do it yourself. You need to get that shit done before midnight tomorrow, dumbass.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “But </span>
  <em>
    <span>Church</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you know I don’t understand this shit unless </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>teach it to me. Our professor sucks!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   This is true. Their professor was shitty, to say the least. Moved on too quickly, only taught the lesson in one way, and had no patience. Tucker never really had time to even copy down the bare minimum for notes, and that’s while abbreviating everything he could. Their professor also yelled far too much, and the old man was easily sidetracked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church and Tucker only had one class together, and that was Tucker’s trigonometry class. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church let a growl slip from his lips. “Yeah? So? I get this shit just fine.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Not everyone’s a genius like you, Church.” Tucker said with sarcasm lacing his words, Tucker turning around in his swivel chair to look at his roommate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Okay</span>
  <em>
    <span>, fine, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’ll help you with your </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking homework.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He sighed dramatically as if it were the end of the world, pushing his glasses up on his face before pushing out of his desk and swiveling up to Tucker in his own chair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Where the hell are you a- oh my god. You haven’t even finished the first one?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “</span>
  <em>
    <span>IT TAKES THREE PAGES FOR ONE PROBLEM.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church only sighed. It’s true; these problems weren’t a joke. Church was on the third problem, his hand already sore from constant movement across smooth paper. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The </span>
  <em>
    <span>obviously irritated </span>
  </em>
  <span>man leaned over Tucker’s shoulder, glancing over what work he’s already done. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...You’re gonna have to start over.” He said quietly, with the tiniest amount of pity, if you squint. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Oh for </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck’s sake.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’ve been on this for 45 minutes!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Welcome to the real fucking world, asshole.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Where the hell did I go </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church sighed again, looking at Tucker’s askew papers once more. He examines rather carefully, making sure he didn’t miss a thing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Silence fell upon the two as he examined Tucker’s work closely. Church’s arm came to rest on the desk, forearm down and fist closed. Tucker’s back was against Church’s shoulder, and Tucker couldn’t help but notice the close proximity. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Coffee. And ice? Does ice have a smell? He smells like coffee and ice. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Literally the first step. You’ve been doing it fuckin’ wrong from the very beginning.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Oh my </span>
  <em>
    <span>god.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   They spent the next hour into the night on that very problem. Church wouldn’t let Tucker quit until he understood it completely. Which, in the end, his understanding was still questionable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Jesus, can I </span>
  <em>
    <span>please </span>
  </em>
  <span>go to bed now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Depends. Are you gonna fuckin’ finish this tomorrow?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Fuck, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>tomorrow! It’s like, 2 in the morning!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “See, that’s the perfect time to be working, in my opinion.” Church countered, a slight smirk to his obviously exhausted face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   “</span>
  </em>
  <span>What the fuck, are you even </span>
  <em>
    <span>human? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Do you sleep? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do you fucking sleep?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church had only a hint of a smile before turning away and swiveling his chair back to his own desk. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>—————————————</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   It was three months since he had met Church before Tucker found out what was in the suitcase that his roommate was so adamant about protecting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church was majoring in aerospace engineering. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “So… you have all this shit, for.. what? NASA?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church let out a heavy, exhausted sigh. “No. This is all shit I engineered myself from home. I plan to finish it here, and turn it in as my grade for our current project. And with luck, it’ll be used in the Aerospace Engineering Presentations. And if </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>happens, I might get lucky and get a job at NASA.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...So… for NASA?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Technically, Tucker wasn’t wrong. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   In the case, there were several pieces of hardware Tucker hadn’t even seen before. Several wires of all coloring, along with plates of metal in all shapes and sizes. Screws everywhere, along with bolts and drills and about a million different kinds of drill bits and odd little tools made for precision. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “So what is it? Some kind of little rocket ship?” Tucker couldn’t help but ask as the two sat on the floor with the case’s contents neatly organized on the floor by their size, type and coloring (which Church happily spent much of his time on, much to Tucker’s confusion).</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “No, it’s going to be a small satellite… and I’ll hopefully launch.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Wow like.. into space?” Tucker couldn’t stop his excitement, grinning ear to ear as he examined Church and the hardware. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   A chuckle slipped from Church’s throat, which he made </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure </span>
  </em>
  <span>to stamp out and pass it as a cough. “No, stupid. It’s… kinda like a drone. You know, those weird mini helicopter things that people fly? So basically, it’s a radio satellite. In the 1930s, a guy named Jansky discovered something </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredible</span>
  </em>
  <span> using </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>radio waves. He was looking for…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church’s words trailed off in Tucker’s mind. Not that Tucker wanted to zone his friend(?) out; he just simply saw the opportunity to examine this man without the threat of another thrown pencil as Church embraces his nerd.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   In the months rolling through, Tucker realized Church didn’t like people staring at him. Church had claimed it felt like he was being judged; for what, Tucker wasn’t sure. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Unfortunate, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tucker had thought to himself, because despite all his gruff outlooks and his shitty attitude, Church was actually rather </span>
  <em>
    <span>attractive. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Dark hair, pretty eyes, with a sharp jaw and cheekbone structure. Chorded shoulders (Tucker only knew this because Church slept with a tank top on), and a fierce attitude. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He’s also got a nice ass, if Tucker has anything to say about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “And </span>
  <em>
    <span>bam, </span>
  </em>
  <span>radio astronomy was born. That signal they released is </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>traveling deep space to this very day. And this baby is gonna be like a mini version of it all! So it’ll launch when it’s done, and with the controller, I can use it to bounce off specific radio waves and damn near direct them where I wanna!” Church was grinning excitedly, and Tucker realized this was the first time he had seen him this thrilled about </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Or smiling, for that matter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   His roommate exhaled with a soft smile on his face. “One day, it’ll work, Tucker. Something I create with my own two hands will </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally </span>
  </em>
  <span>work.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   And suddenly, Tucker wondered just how many failures put those dark circles of exhaustion under those pretty irises.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>——————————————-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Where are you from?” Tucker found himself asking his roommate, laying on his back on Church’s bed with his knees bent. Tucker stares at the ceiling absently, hands behind his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church was at his desk, twisting something with a needle nose. Each twist made a quiet </span>
  <em>
    <span>click </span>
  </em>
  <span>sound in the silent room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...Why does it matter.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “It doesn’t. I’m just curious.” Tucker says easily, closing his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Don’t you have homework to do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Nope! You helped me with it all. Like the </span>
  <em>
    <span>gracious </span>
  </em>
  <span>person you are.” He smirks, eyes still closed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Damn right I’m gracious. I’m the only reason why you’re passing half your classes.” Church pushed his glasses up, then looked over at the man laying in his own bed. Not Tucker’s, which was perfectly fine and held the same comfort. But rather in </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   His heart squeezes, just a little, at the sight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I grew up in a shitty town in southern Texas.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Texas, huh?” Tucker sat up, his arms resting over his bent knees as he smiled. “I’m actually from north Texas. We weren’t so far away from each other, huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “We could be farther, if you ask me.” Church quipped, pushing his glasses up again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Whatever, you’d miss me.” Tucker smirked before nabbing one of Church’s pillows to put under his arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church turned his back to Tucker in his swivel chair, resuming his work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Meh. I’d finally get some peace and quiet.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You’d be </span>
  <em>
    <span>bored</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Tucker said with a grin, moving his arm to rest his chin in his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Why are you in </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>bed, by the way.” The man stated rather than asked. Tucker could hear soft clicking and snipping from Church’s workspace. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>   “Why not? You have the comfier bed anyway.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “They’re the same damn beds.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Uh, no? You bought that super comfy blanket two weeks ago, remember?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker was leaning back again, against the very blanket Church had purchased as an impulse-buy while going out to buy toiletries with Tucker (which Church had spent 20 minutes refusing to do) at the university’s convenience store. It was plush, soft, and a lovely pale blue. At the time, he had slipped the blanket onto the counter before Tucker could say a word. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “It’s.. just a blanket.” Church muttered, refusing to look at Tucker. That, evidently, was a mistake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Bro, take a break. It’s been like, 4 hours.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Three and a half.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>counting?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Come on man, let’s go do something.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “No. I need to finish this before the end of Christmas break, Tucker.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker groaned, sitting up once more to look at Church himself. “Dude, Christmas break isn’t even for another week. And even then, break is like… a </span>
  <em>
    <span>month long. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You have all the time in the world!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church continued to tinker with a wired panel, twisting and turning a green wire with his needle nose and tweezers. “Tucker, I can't stress enough how happy I am to be working on this piece of art rather than be with you at the moment.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Oh whatever, dickhead.” Tucker huffed, crossing his arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   After a few seconds, Tucker smiled to himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   He’s taking a damn break whether he likes it or not. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...Wanna get some drinks?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church suddenly stopped his work at the mention of alcohol. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...You buying?”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>————————————</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker learned two things when he went out for drinks with Church. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   One; Church is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>a lightweight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Two; Church is </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>hot when he’s loose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Which, to be fair, Tucker already knew he was hot to begin with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   But like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this. </span>
  </em>
  <span>This was different. This was carefree, even pleasant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church had been telling stories Tucker </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’ll deny later. He was laughing, actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughing, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and not just sneering or releasing a dark chuckle as he watched the demise of somebody he hates. Church was even smiling, and it made Tucker’s heart do a little flip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   And it started with just one drink. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   They found a bar close enough to walk to from campus, notably called the Red Shack. It was small, cozy, and off a busy street. The Red Shack had worn down wooden walls, the patrons happy and well served. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The place was run by an older man, with a gruff southern accent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Lopez, we need a refill over here!” He yelled over while cleaning a slick, black countertop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker could smell wood, and decided he rather enjoyed it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Smells earthy… </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker sat at a worn bar stool where the owner cleaned the countertop, Church sitting next to him with his hood over his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Two beers!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Sure thing, son!” The older man grinned (Tucker noticed his tag said… Sarge?)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker smiles at Church when they received their drinks, the liquid cold with fresh condensation running down the smooth glass bottle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Don’t expect to get brownie points for this. I still need to go back and continue working when we’re done here.” Church’s tone was flat as he clinked his beer with Tucker’s. He took a drink, raising the bottle and closing his eyes to feel the bitterness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker couldn’t help but watch his throat. Church’s hood fell back when he tilted his head to take a deep drink, leaving his pale neck completely exposed. He watched his adam’s apple bob as he drank, eyes gazing up to the stubble at his jaw before landing on his sharp face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The sound of the bottle hitting the counter snapped him out of his examination. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I can literally feel your eyes on me dude.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Huh? I wasn’t looking at you, asshole.” Tucker covered his expression by taking a drink of his own beer, eyebrows knitted as he looked straight ahead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Whatever.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   It took about 20 minutes and 4 bottles of beer (</span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck, 4? This guy can’t be human-) </span>
  </em>
  <span>for Church to get giggly. Not drunk, but just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little </span>
  </em>
  <span>tipsy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He was loose, grinning more and glaring less. Tucker made the decision to enjoy this new expression on his friend’s face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I don’t know if it was something I ate before bed or </span>
  <em>
    <span>what, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but it was fucked up in the best way. I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>time traveling!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Time traveling, Tucker! And I met someone who looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>just like me, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but their skin was </span>
  <em>
    <span>yellow</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I looked like a fucking Simpson. It made me cackle and I have no godly idea why.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church was telling Tucker of a weird dream he had last night; something about time traveling and having a dog named Gary. Tucker found it to be amusing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>cute </span>
  </em>
  <span>even. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “So why did you have to time travel?” Tucker asked, taking a sip of his beer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Their seats had slowly grown closer to each other, the two now shoulder to shoulder at the bar as they enjoyed their drinks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>   “Hell if I fuckin’ know. I think I had to like.. stop somebody from doing something… I dunno, all I can remember is the color pink when I try to think of</span> <span>who I was trying to stop.” Church let out an easy breath with a warm smile on his face, and suddenly Church looked his actual age for once rather than the tired-40-year-old he often portrays.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker couldn’t help but smile, his friend leaning his weight against him as he drank again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church was listening to Tucker as he spoke of home suddenly, closing his eyes to let his cat-brain ignore the lights and people as it all started to overwhelm him, focusing on Tucker’s voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Christmas break is coming up dude, and I.. I dunno. I don’t want to go home, but I feel like I have to. And it’s like, a 24 hour drive home. I don’t wanna make that trip on my own, dude.” He sighed, letting his body lean into Church’s weight against him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church could feel warmth flood across his face as he spoke. “...Maybe I can go with you. I don’t have family to go back to. Road trip, dude.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker’s eyes shot open at Church’s proposition. He replayed the words in his head, </span>
  <em>
    <span>one, two, three times. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “..You mean, go home with me? You’d have to see my family.. and what about your project?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker could feel the heat rise to his face as he mulled over the thought; </span>
  <em>
    <span>going home with someone for a holiday is a couple’s thing, isn’t it?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Tucker, they’d be </span>
  <em>
    <span>honored </span>
  </em>
  <span>to meet me. I’m a fucking delight.” He said with snark, grinning like Cheshire. “And my project? Meh. I’ll take it with me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You’re just saying that because you’ve been drinking.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “No, I fucking mean it, asshole. Now I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>going with you. Sorry, your ass is stuck with me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker snorted, drinking down the last of his beer before speaking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “That’s kinda gay, dude.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Yeah, so am I.” Church muttered, closing his eyes again before letting a smirk slip across his sharp face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker raised his body to respond to that, the words caught in his throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey! </span>
  </em>
  <span>We’re closin’ soon, ya weird, blue-colored kids. Ya got an hour, then yer’ gonna hafta’ take off.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   This alien voice startled the two, Church instinctually lifting away from Tucker to scoot and put a foot between them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Right, we’ll go ahead and head out, then.” Church sputtered out quickly, scooting back the stool and shoving his hands in his pockets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker sighed, nodding in turn and paying for the last of the drinks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>__________________</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The walk back was quiet. The moment from the bar was gone, Church returning to his usual grouch, with the cold air nipping at both their once-warm faces. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker chose not to take his friend seriously about Christmas break.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Because there’s just no </span>
  </em>
  <span>way </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’d ever-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “What day are you leaving for break, dumbass?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “What, are you deaf? I asked, what day are you planning on driving back home?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The gears in Tucker’s head started to turn. “I-Well, on the 18th, I think. I don’t know, I’ll have to call home to see if they’d be prepared for my visit. It’s… kinda hectic over there, dude.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church stopped suddenly, the sound of his worn, dirtied converse scraping against the sidewalk being the only known noise. Tucker stopped a few feet in front of him, not prepared for the sudden halt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Trust me, whatever crazy shit you have going on at home, I can relate to.” He said flatly before resuming their walk back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker followed. “...Why go with me? You really don’t have family to see?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I have a sister. But she’s over seas-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Is she hot?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church decided to ignore that question. “-and she’s military, so I never see her. We usually just send letters when we can. My mom died a long time ago, and my father’s currently in prison. He had no siblings, so my sister is all I got. All I really need, honestly.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker was not really prepared for </span>
  <em>
    <span>that. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He knew his sister was military, but he wasn’t aware of how alone he really was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Carolina worked a lot to pay for everything back home before she enlisted. She was scared shitless of leaving me behind.” He pulls his hood over his shaggy hair. “And so, I did what I could to get scholarships for this school.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker took a moment to think over Church’s words; </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>think them over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...That’s why you hate parties. Why you hated my original reason for being here.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The realization dawned on Tucker like a truck coming in full force. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   He worked his ass off for this place, and I just showed up to fuck around. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church only nodded, his glare suddenly much sharper than before as he walked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Whatever. That shit doesn’t matter now. Let’s just get back to the dorms, I need a damn shower.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>____________________</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   The next morning, there were no classes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Thank fuck it’s Saturday.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker didn’t wake until he felt warm light through the blinds of their shared window hit his dark face. The intrusion was welcomed, making Tucker snuggle further into his dorm sheets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He didn’t open his eyes until he heard soft clicking from across the room; Church’s desk, to be exact. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker slowly sat up, blankets falling to his waist as he stretched his arms upwards. He lets a small moan slip as he does so, closing his eyes tight and feeling his torso stretch with his arms as oxygen is brought deeply into his lungs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church decided to ignore the new noise filling the once-quiet room, deleting Tucker’s moan from his memory. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   Tucker lets his arms drop to the comforter, eyes blinking blearily as he tries to focus on the ravenette at the desk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...Church? ‘S that you? Whaddya doing up, ‘s like-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “It’s noon, idiot.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...Oh. How long have you been awake?” Tucker asks, his senses coming over to him slowly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker was bare, as he usually is when he sleeps. It drove Church crazy, but he eventually got used to the usual excessive amount of skin in the mornings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Huh? I dunno. I didn’t sleep last night.” He muttered, not bothering to turn around. His back was to Tucker as he sat in his chair, body hunched over a system of wiring. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Wait.. so after I went to bed, you just-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Stayed up? Yeah. What’s the problem? I got shit to do, unlike you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You haven’t been sleeping right since-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Never. I never fucking sleep right. It’s not anything fucking new.” He hears the pads of Tucker’s bare feet walking on the wood of their dorm floor, soft and docile as he moves. “And I swear to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking god </span>
  </em>
  <span>if you’re naked again-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Pardon? I always sleep naked. ‘It’s not anything fucking new’, Church.” He quotes his companion, but with less malice. Tucker only had a smile to offer as he walked over to his dresser to get some sweats. He grabbed a pair that was well-worn and soft, resting low on his narrow hips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church let out a heavy, irritated sigh, but continued his work anyway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Whatever. Don’t you have like… a fucking party or something to go to? I’m busy and I don’t need you poking around again.” Church took a second to push up his glasses (</span>
  <em>
    <span>Are they too big for his face or something?) </span>
  </em>
  <span>before returning the hand holding his pliers to the wired mess in front of him. A lamp stood above his work, shining light to help guide Church’s movements. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Not today, I don’t.” Tucker answered while pulling his thick dreads back into a ponytail. “Hey, have you eaten yet? I’ll go get us some food if you want.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Not hungry.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...You okay? You haven’t even looked at me, dude.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I not giving you enough attention?” He retaliated, turning in his swivel chair to finally look at his friend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   And Church’s eyes said more than he’d ever say himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   His dark circles were far more obvious after pulling an all-nighter. He showered, but his hair was a mess from air drying. His glasses were a little crooked, and he didn’t shave that morning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Overall, he looked exhausted as fuck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...Dude, you need sleep. Like, now. Take a nap.” Tucker scanned Church’s body, going over his face before trailing to his body. “Like, you look like absolute shit man.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Gee, thanks asshole.” Church rolled his eyes, turning his swivel chair back to his work. He decided to ignore Tucker’s broad, </span>
  <em>
    <span>painfully bare</span>
  </em>
  <span> chest and slender hips as he stood in only his sweats.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “How is your neck not broken from hunching over like that?” Tucker shakes his head before making his way to Church. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker decided to test his luck by standing behind Church, leaning over, and placing his hands on either side of Church’s shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The workaholic freezes at the physical contact, tightening his handle on his pliers in a deadly grip, with the sound of rubber squeaking in his hold.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...If you don’t move </span>
  <em>
    <span>right this fucking second-“</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I’m not moving until you get up and take a fuckin’ nap, asshole. Come on. I’m gonna be in your personal space, which I know you </span>
  <em>
    <span>just hate,</span>
  </em>
  <span> until you take a goddamn break.” Tucker rests his chin on Church’s head, a smirk pulling over his face. His hands slide over his shoulders and hung below Church’s face, Tucker’s fingers lacing together in a loose lock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I’m not kidding jackass, I’ll fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>stab you.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He growls; deep and </span>
  <em>
    <span>gutteral.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker decides he likes that sound. A lot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Wonder if I can get him to do it again-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Mm? Sorry, I can’t hear you over you </span>
  <em>
    <span>not taking a nap.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Come on, stop working. You’ve been at it for </span>
  <em>
    <span>weeks. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And you had like, 4 beers last night dude. You gotta eat </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Sorry that I give a shit about my work.” He tries to turn around, but Tucker keeps him in place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Yeah, well, you should care about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> every now and then, dickhead.” Tucker swiped the pliers from behind Church before pulling away (and taking his warmth with him, Church notes). The younger of the two backs up, grinning and hiding the pliers behind his back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church turned around as quickly as Tucker stole his tool, his green orbs full of rage and frustration. “I’m gonna </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking kill you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Ah, there’s that growl again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Can he get any more attractive?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You’re cute when you’re mad,” Tucker said slyly, eyebrows coming to knit in a mischievous formation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   It was Tucker’s last words before he was back first on the hardwood floor, the breath suddenly knocked out of his system. A cold body was sitting atop of his solid frame, thin fingers holding a death grip on Tucker’s wrists and keeping them to the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The pliers slide across and under Church’s bed. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>   “I dunno what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>gotten into you, Tucker, but I’ll kick your goddamn </span>
  <em>
    <span>ass </span>
  </em>
  <span>if you-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>  “Your body is really cold.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Your hands. And your body. They’re.. cold?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   His hands are fucking freezing, what the fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...Okay? So what, asshole?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Are you always like that?” Tucker raises an eyebrow, clearly not intimidated by this angry son of a bitch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker also couldn’t help but notice that Church’s whole weight was on him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Oh my god, I want him to ride m-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I don’t fucking know? God you’re ridiculous.” He sighed, his malice leaving his body like steam relieving from an engine. He releases Tucker’s wrists before sitting up, making a move to remove himself from Tucker’s waist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Oh no you don’t~</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker’s movements are quick, his warm hands finding their way on Church’s slim waist and keeping his friend in place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church looked at him with burning rage in his green eyes. “...What the fuck are you doing.”  He stated rather than asked, eyes narrowing dangerously from behind his glasses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker only smiled, immune to Church’s anger by now. He shifts a little, pulling Church’s body a few inches closer to his own torso. “I’m just enjoying the view.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker may be grinning, but Church was completely </span>
  <em>
    <span>startled</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like an animal caught in a trap and its hunter standing before them in their last seconds of life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   This reaction made Tucker uneasy, for that reaction typically came with past poor experiences. He wanted to advance, so goddamn bad. Wanted to try his luck, </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially </span>
  </em>
  <span>after drinks just last night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   But Church’s face tells Tucker that was the wrong move. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He squirms, a sudden snarl coming from behind his teeth. Church’s nose crinkles with the expression, teeth bared like an animal on the defensive side. The movement made Tucker wince, Church’s ass right in Tucker’s lap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Just- keep your pointless flirting to the goddamn girls at your parties.” He shoved himself off of Tucker, grumbling as he managed to grab his pliers from under the bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker waited a moment before saying anything in retaliation, calculating his chances and his next move. For the first time in his life, he finds himself thinking before he speaks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...It’s not pointless flirting.” Tucker says, so quietly it almost goes unheard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church froze, turning his head to look Tucker dead in the eye before responding, just as quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker suddenly panicked, turning his head and avoiding eye contact at all costs as he remained on the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Okay, this is nothing like trying to get a chick to sleep with me; what the fuck is happening right now-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Riiiing~</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker and Church both jump in their places, startled at the sudden ringtone in the otherwise quiet room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church growled softly under his breath, bee-lining for his desk where his phone rested on a stack of strewn papers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker couldn’t be more relieved when the man answered the phone, finding an excuse to get back up off the floor and pretend like not a damn thing happened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker puts on the sweats he has initially grabbed before, snatches a hoodie, and power walks out of their shared room without a sound. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>___________________</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   The streets of Armonia were quiet at night. Students were in their dorms studying, or the soft beating of music from inside dorms could be distantly registered. Citizens were long asleep, and most lights were shut off save for the street lights that lined the sturdy sidewalks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker had gone across campus, where he had a friend a year ahead of him in a dorm across from his own dorm building and remained there for the day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Sorry for busting in on ya, I know you had a huge party you were going to, Kai.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker was slouched in her bed with his back against the wall, hands in the pockets of his hoodie with a pout on his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Dude, it’s totally fine. I’m at a party like every weekend. Missing one isn’t gonna kill me.” She grinned, bending over her mini fridge to grab a can of beer for herself, and another for Tucker. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “So, you gonna tell me the </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>reason you’re like, super depressed?” She smiled, tossing the can of beer before making herself comfortable next to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker sighed dramatically, taking the beer in kind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Oh my god, fine.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Kai had been bugging him about it since he came in around noon, which she had been doing her hair before going out herself. Tucker claimed nothing was wrong, and that he only wanted to “spend time with his friend”, but she knew better. Tucker only came in to see Kai if he wanted to fuck or to talk about something serious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   And considering they both still had their clothes on while having been together for well over 6 hours now, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kai knows it’s the latter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...So you know my roommate?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “The asshole you talk about all the time?” She pulls her long brown hair over her shoulder, mindlessly toying with the curly strands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Yeah. Him. I think I have like… an actual, </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing for him. It’s not just an ‘I wanna rail him’ kind of thing. It’s… more like a…” His eyebrows knit in thought, the gears in his head turning as he tries to come up with an explanation. “...Like a ‘blow him and give him awesome aftercare’ kind of thing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Kai only snorts. “That’s called </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Tucker.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker’s eyes widen like saucers, and he immediately shakes his head. “Okay, no. I don’t love that guy. I-I don’t think? Dude I’ve never loved anybody like that! Ugh, whatever. I just- I just fucked up with him today. I don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>what </span>
  </em>
  <span>happened, but I did something to really set him off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   She cocks an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what you always do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Well </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but this was different, dude. Like, I don’t know how to explain it.” He sighs in defeat, leaning his head back against the wall with a soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>thud.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Kai, he tackled me to the ground because I was being a shithead. And- and he was in my lap. And you know, we’ve been getting to know each other. We had drinks just last night. And I thought- </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I wanted to test my luck, Kai.” He bit his lip before letting out a small breath. “I sat up and he was in my lap, and he was gonna get up but… I dunno what the fuck came over me, but I pulled him back down. He wasn’t diggin’ it. I’ve.. never seen him look like that. And it threw me off.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He shifts, Kai’s face contorting to that of concern. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “He told me to keep my pointless flirting to the girls. And I- </span>
  <em>
    <span>ugh. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I told him it wasn’t pointless.” Tucker groans in frustration and embarrassment, thankful his skin was too dark for anyone to notice the faint blush across his nose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Oh… what’d he say?” She asks meekly, leaning her head forward slightly to get a better look at her friend’s expression. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I mean… he just kinda looked at me? I don’t really know what was going through his head, or mine for that fuckin’ matter. Church is complicated as hell. And I feel like there’s more that I’m missing, after his reaction today.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Is Church his first name?” She asks curiously, twirling her hair once more in thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Huh? No, it’s Leonard. Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Kai stops twirling her hair, her soft brown orbs suddenly wide with odd realization that Tucker couldn’t understand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>   “...Oh boy. Oh </span><em><span>boy.</span></em> <em><span>Oh fuck. </span></em><span>Okay. This all makes sense now.” </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “What makes sense?” Tucker inquiries, raising an eyebrow as he looks at the woman beside him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Kai exhales, sitting up straight before taking a drink of her canned beer. She closes her eyes for a moment, processing the words she plans to use for Tucker.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The wait only made him more nervous. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Church is… like you said, fuckin’ complicated. My big brother actually knows his family; he’s good friends with Church’s older sister. So I kinda know the drama too.” She takes another drink, Tucker forgetting he even had one at this point and left it at the end table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “What the fuck am I missing here then?” Tucker leans forward, eyes narrowing as he looks at Kai. She shifts uncomfortably at his gaze, then forces herself to make eye contact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “He and his sister used to be abused. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally. Their mother was a great woman, but their father is… pretty shitty. As far as I know, Church doesn’t get involved with </span>
  <em>
    <span>anybody </span>
  </em>
  <span>romantically. At least, not anymore. I’ve been told his father would tell him and his sister they weren’t good enough. Degraded then a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot, </span>
  </em>
  <span>no matter what they did. It kinda started when their mother died in the army a long time ago, so I know it wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>awful.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “So he thinks he’s… what? Not good enough for a partner?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I dunno about </span>
  <em>
    <span>that. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I think he just has trust issues because his first relationship with anyone made him feel like shit for just existing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker shook his head, his gaze moving to the bedding in his lap. He glared at it, as if it had personally offended him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Church and his sister deserve better.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “What else do you know about that asshole, Kai?” Tucker couldn’t help his curiosity, the temptation getting the best of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   And Kai seemed completely up for the chance to gossip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As always. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Well, I know he got here on his own. He worked for every dime and scholarship to get here. His sister, Carolina? She’s like… </span>
  <em>
    <span>super </span>
  </em>
  <span>protective of him. She’s a big reason why he’s where he is. Carolina really pushes him to work hard.” Kai takes another drink of her beer, a knowing smirk on her face and a twinkle in her eye. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “He’s also </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>attracted to guys. He used go for chicks, but he had a shitty experience with a girl named Tex. He wasn’t great for her either, though. It was really toxic. After it was over, I think it was kinda an awakening for him. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>gay </span>
  </em>
  <span>awakening.” She snickered, pulling her left leg up to bend and rest the arm that held her beer on her knee. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker’s heart skipped a beat at the second half of information. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   I might have a chance.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I also know that Church is </span>
  <em>
    <span>obsessed </span>
  </em>
  <span>with two things; sex, and mechanics.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker choked on his sip of alcohol. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Sex?” He sputtered, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Are you serious? Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure?</span>
  </em>
  <span> How do you even know that? After what happened today and after knowing him I general, I think the damn guy is asexual, dude.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Kai only snorts, a huge </span>
  <em>
    <span>hellish</span>
  </em>
  <span> grin on her face. “As if. A small circle of people I have connections with know he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>great </span>
  </em>
  <span>at deepthroating. But! That’s another story for another da-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>  “Uh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That’s a story for </span>
  <em>
    <span>now.” </span>
  </em>
  <span> Tucker could feel heat rising to his face, and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt hot and bothered without even having the person of his thoughts in front of him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   But of course, Kai wouldn’t budge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Sorry! I don’t kiss and tell!” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>   “But you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do, </span>
  </em>
  <span>though! It’s what you do </span>
  <em>
    <span>best</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Anyways, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I know he’s not asexual. He’s just… very guarded, especially after Tex. He’s also like, a major asshole, </span>
  <em>
    <span>on purpose, </span>
  </em>
  <span>so it’s kinda hard for him to make friends let alone date somebody.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker exhaled a dramatic sigh, bumping the back of his head against the wall behind him in slight frustration. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...When we went out for drinks, he said he was gonna go home with me for Christmas break…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Kai went quiet with this new information, drinking the last of her beer thoughtfully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...Isn’t that like, a couple’s thing? Was he drunk when he said it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “He wasn’t drunk, but maybe a little tipsy. He was relaxed, at least. I haven’t asked him about it since we had drinks. But after today, I don’t think it’ll happen.” He sighs in disappointment, pulling his knees to his chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I’m scared, Kai. It’s only been a semester of school and I think I actually like this dude. I’ve never really had that before. I just thought-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Fuck girls and drink beer?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I mean, yeah! That’s all I did in high school! I thought college would be the same thing. But Church… he actually pushes me to do my work. He thinks I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>accomplish </span>
  </em>
  <span>something. That, like… doesn’t happen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker pulled his knees closer, suddenly glaring at the blanket in front of him with irritation he didn’t know he had. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I don’t really understand it, but for once, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to. And after today, I don’t think he’s going with me to see my family. He was kinda tipsy, anyway.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Kai sat in thought for a moment, rolling over Tucker’s situation repeatedly before finally coming up with an answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I don’t know what’s gonna happen, but the least you could do is apologize. He’s had all day to cool off, right? You gave him space. Maybe you should go on back and try and let him know you’re sorry. He probably won’t listen, but at least he’ll know.” Kai gave him a soft smile, trying to lift her friend’s spirits. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Oh my god, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate </span>
  </em>
  <span>apologizing for shit! It means I gotta be sentimental! I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>awful</span>
  </em>
  <span> at that!” He gently bangs the back of his head against the thin wall behind him, groaning in aggravation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Oh my fucking god, grow up. It’s not that hard, Tucker. You’ve been over here for like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hours. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’s had time to himself, so it’s a perfect opportunity to fuckin’ apologize to his ass!” She suddenly stands up, the dark curls of her long hair swaying as she moves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You know what? I’m kicking you out. Go </span>
  <em>
    <span>apologize. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You wanna get into his pants? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Get out and apologize.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Do I fucking have to though? Like, really, do I?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   “</span>
  </em>
  <span>Jesus, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Kai couldn’t help the smile of victory that crept up her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>————————————</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   It was well into the evening when Tucker left his friend’s dorm behind, pulling into his own residence building soon after. His hands were shaky, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint as to </span>
  <em>
    <span>why. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   I fuckin’ live here too, I gotta come back at some point. He can’t just kick me out… he can’t, right?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker took a deep breath, then exhaled. His hand rested on the copper handle, the metal cool to the touch. His free hand rested in the pocket of his teal hoodie, fidgeting with the confines of the cotton.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He sighed, then decided to knock first. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Church? Hey, I’m comin’ in dude.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker didn’t wait for an answer, knowing his roommate would be in the dorm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Probably working on his little science project.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   But when he opened the door, the lights were completely out, save for Church’s lamp at his isolated desk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The hand in Tucker’s hoodie pocket dropped to his side in disbelief. His eyes scan the dark room, jumping from place to place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church’s desk was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>mess. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Papers were thrown and tools were scattered around the legs of the wooden area. The lamp was in disarray, with pencils and wads of crushed papers of calculations and failed, drawn-out ideas littering the floor. Tucker saw a calculator somehow on his side of the dorm, the back that held the batteries in place strewn across the wood planks of the flooring. Then, finally, at the very end of their shared room, was what Tucker believed to be Church’s prized project. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   It was in </span>
  <em>
    <span>pieces.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Wires frayed and cut in all directions, small metal plates scattered across the floor (with strange, foreign burn marks), and microchips of some kind broken and crushed. The motors were visible when they should’ve been protected by white metal plating. Small dents littered over the sides and it’s wheels were nowhere to be found, save for one on its left side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Church…?” Tucker tried carefully, observing the room for his friend. “Dude, you in here? What the hell happened, man?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   All he heard was a dark growl, coming from the same desk that was obviously in the way of Church’s rage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Get the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck out.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The tone was dangerous and serious, to those who didn’t know Church. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   But Tucker knew better. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   What sounded like a threat to anyone else, was actually a plea for assurance to Tucker. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   His eyes followed the voice, and he spotted his friend hinged over at his desk, elbows on the wood with his forehead in his rough hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Uh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I live here too. Come on, what happened?” He shuts the door behind him, the hallway light disappearing from their shared dorm. “And why are the damn lights out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I’m serious, if you don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>get the fuck out now-</span>
  </em>
  <span>“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “It didn’t work, did it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Risky choice of words, yes. But Tucker knew the risks of befriending this one. He was willing to take those chances head on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker got a pencil thrown at him in response, Church’s accuracy still as terrifying as ever. A warning shot, Tucker gathered, that went past his head and lodged into the wall behind him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...So fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>what </span>
  </em>
  <span>if it didn’t,” he answered so quietly it nearly went unheard. His voice was rougher than usual, and inturn made Tucker uneasy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church finally turned his head, only slightly, to side-eye Tucker. The lamp was faced away from him, leaving a harsh shadow across his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker was silent for a moment, then released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The sounds filled the otherwise silent room, tension decreasing as Tucker thought longer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...Come on, I’ll help you clean up.” Tucker replied quietly as he bent over to pick up a stapler and a  group of loose papers. His brown eyes glance over them for a moment, seeing frantic math equations scattered over old, poorly erased numbers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He didn’t look up to see if Church was listening. He picks up more papers, stacking them neatly into his hands. Tucker heard a soft growl, coming out hesitant and irritated at the same time. Then, the soft scrape of metal across wood echoed into the silent dorm room as Church pushed his chair out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church made himself clean up his desk, rearranging the lamp that should be centered. He throws some papers away, then folds and puts away the rest with slow movement. He cleans up the scattered pencils, placing them in a small tin with a quiet </span>
  <em>
    <span>clink. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You don’t have to fucking help me, you know.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Okay? I want to.” Tucker replied, not sparing a glance at his roommate. “Besides, you weren’t gonna clean it up anyway.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church glared in response, but knew this to be true. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Not like he was gonna admit </span>
  <em>
    <span>that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   So the two cleaned up in silence; Tucker didn’t ask any questions, and Church didn’t try to kick Tucker out again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   It only took about 10 minutes to clean up. Church snipped and growled about the order and placement of some papers and tools, but they eventually got the arrangement in place again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Then Church finally spoke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “It...it didn’t work. It short-circuited. And it destroyed its own motor and every chip that was in it. I did the fuckin’ math wrong. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Again.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He exhaled heavily, running his thin hand through his dark hair. His glasses were crooked while they rested on his sharp nose. “Months, Tucker, </span>
  <em>
    <span>months </span>
  </em>
  <span>of work went to shit.” This time, both hands go up to spread fingers through unruly dark hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I tried to fix it. But everything I tried just made it </span>
  <em>
    <span>worse </span>
  </em>
  <span>and I- fuck, I got desperate to save that piece of shit and nothing would fit right and I just-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church inhaled suddenly, eyes squeezing closed as his arms dropped to his sides in defeat. He closes his fists tightly, muttering something incoherent to himself as he did so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker didn’t understand what was going on, or why his roommate was having an internal panic attack, but he knew he had to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   So, with the knowledge of his arms having the possibility of being ripped off for acting on his next choice, he pulled Church into a hug; arms under Church’s and pulling the cold body flush to his own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church went frigid, spine stiff and the muttering silenced. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>are you-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Shut up, you need this.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    The tension was there for several seconds, before finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Church’s body relaxed against Tucker’s embrace. A shaky sigh escapes his lips, long arms coming up to wrap around Tucker’s chest and back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Then Church’s grip became </span>
  <em>
    <span>tight, </span>
  </em>
  <span>like he’d never been hugged in his life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have a feeling he hasn’t.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>Church closed his eyes as tight as the hug, burying his face in Tucker’s warm neck. Tucker’s extra few inches of height made it the perfect fit for Church’s chin to rest in the crook of his roommate’s neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The younger of the two pulled back slowly, smiling a little at the once angry man. Tucker raises his hand and adjusts Church’s glasses for him, surprised at the lack of a pale hand swatting him away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...Sorry you had to see that. Just- turn on the fuckin’ lights.” Church pulled away, crossing his arms over his chest before turning away to make a bee line for his desk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Okay, Embarrassed Church is pretty cute. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   And did he just apologize to me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker’s smile fell lopsided on his face. He never thought the day would come when he’d hear Leonard Church </span>
  <em>
    <span>apologize. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Speaking of apologizing…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He groans internally at the memory of Kai’s words, his tongue suddenly caught in his throat. His hands twitch at his sides uncomfortably and awkwardly as he tries to come up with a way to approach the subject. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Hey, uh… Church?” He decided to distract himself by flipping on the light switch. “I’m… sorry, for earlier today.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church visibly tenses at these words, suddenly standing straighter and far more rigid before he turns his head to the sound of Tucker’s voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about. Let’s move on.” Church said shortly, heading to their small makeshift kitchen to make his usual straight black coffee. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Dude- it’s like, 11 o’clock at night-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “Shut the fuck up and let me enjoy my coffee. I need the energy to fuckin’ pack my shit.” The sound of hot liquid was heard drizzling quietly into a mug, the glass of it covered in varied shades of blue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...Pack? For wha-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “For your goddamn trip home, idiot. I said I’m going, didn’t I?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker’s heart skips a beat, a sudden lump swelling in his throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I- w-wait but you aren’t mad at me? What about your projec-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “It doesn’t matter. It’s fucking- It’s broken. It’s broken, Tucker. It’s just a piece of metal and a bunch of wires, anyway. I can just-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Okay, no, it wasn’t just a pile of junk, Church. That was your </span>
  <em>
    <span>work. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I saw you build that thing for </span>
  <em>
    <span>months.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tucker took a deep breath before continuing. “Don’t cut yourself down, dude.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   A faint rush of heat tinted Church’s sharp cheekbones.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...Whatever. Help me pack. The 18th is in two days.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker was dazed at the words. He wanted him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so bad. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Wanted to know he if was okay after his work, </span>
  <em>
    <span>his hard fuckin’ work,</span>
  </em>
  <span> failed. Wanted to make sure Church wasn’t lost in his own failure. Tucker wanted to hug him until Church </span>
  <em>
    <span>fell asleep against him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But here he was, standing as Church pulled out his backpack to shove shit inside it as if nothing had happened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   What the hell do I do about this?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>___________________</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   The 18th came fast. Christmas break had officially started, and Tucker wasn’t ready. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   It took a while, but Tucker managed to convince Church to keep his work in progress, in hopes of fixing it. Church was adamant about trashing it, frustrated and irked it failed, but Tucker wasn’t going to let him quit just yet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   They put it in a safe place in their dorm, tucked away carefully in Church’s closet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church packed a simple backpack; sweats, three hoodies, headphones, a toothbrush, a charger, his briefs and tank tops, and various random tools he used for his work. Tucker didn’t get why he was bringing them, but decided to accept it as another one of Church’s quirks</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You sure that’s all you need..? I’m gonna be home for a week, Church.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   They stood in their dorm, incredibly early in the morning. Church had to force Tucker awake for the long drive, having already showered and brushed his teeth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I don’t have anything else. I don’t need my jeans, anyway. Seriously, I’m fuckin’ fine.” He huffs, shoving his hands in a NASA hoodie he stole from Tucker’s closet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker refused to let his mind think on </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>for too long. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Said man had </span>
  <em>
    <span>overpacked. </span>
  </em>
  <span>A suitcase, with an abundance of different shirts, vests, jeans, hoodies, shoes, and piercings to switch out. Church, on the other hand, wore the same black mini-gages every single day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Come on, we got a long drive, asshole.” Church bumps his shoulder gently against Tucker’s, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. Tucker smirked, pulling up his suitcase by the handle to set it upon its wheels on the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You grab the snacks?” Church quipped, to which Tucker nodded. “In my car already! You wouldn’t shut the fuck up about them so it was the first thing I loaded up. You got the pillows and blankets?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Fuck yeah I do.” He grinned, which shot a flutter right through Tucker’s heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Why does he look so damn </span>
  </em>
  <span>feral </span>
  <em>
    <span>when he grins?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   And why are his canines so goddamn sharp?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   They loaded up Tucker’s shitty truck (handed down to him by his pa). It was a rough, 1968 Chevrolet Cheyenne, painted a pale mint and silver trim, with bits of paint scraped off here and there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Perfect seating for two. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The backseats were tiny, with barely a foot of space between the back window and the front seats. Tucker had placed his suitcase in the cargo bed of his truck, the heavy weight keeping it safely secured. Church stuffed the large bag of snacks in the tiny seats behind them, and had himself wrapped in a blanket not even two minutes before getting into the truck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker noticed he had his feet criss-crossed over the dash, making himself perfectly comfortable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   I can definitely get used to seeing him like this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He had his usual scowl, but Tucker could tell it was only for show. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You sure you wanna do this? It’s a 24 hour drive, Church.” Tucker gives his roommate one last chance to back out as he climbs into his truck, closing the door as he spoke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church wouldn’t budge however, much to Tucker’s internal delight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Sorry asshole, I’m not going anywhere. Although, it sure fuckin’ seems like you don’t want me to go.” He raises his left eyebrow, questioning the driver next to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker starts up his car, the early morning light bleeding through his windshield and splashing over their faces. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “If you leave now, I might shed tears of joy.” Tucker quipped with a grin, to which Church only rolled his eyes at. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   With a half smile, of course. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker buckled his seat, turned the key of his truck and started the engine. It creaked at first, letting out harsh grunts and sputtered before finally starting a gentle purr. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Your car is shit.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “At least I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>a car.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church only snickered at that, feeling a gentle warmth pool at his gut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   In moments they were off, headed down to small-town Texas. Church shifted until comfortable, pillow behind his head and blanket across his lap. They pulled out to a highway, Tucker flipping on his radio. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...What’s your family like.” Church stated rather than asked, 15 minutes into the drive. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker coughed nervously, a shaky chuckle escaping his throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Well. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They’re… </span>
  <em>
    <span>interesting.</span>
  </em>
  <span> My ma passed a long time ago, so it’s just my dad and my two sisters. I’m the middle child. My little sister, Lavender, is 14. She’s… weird. Like, really weird. My older sister, Landri, is pretty intense. She was a cheerleader in high school, so she’s always hyped and excited. Pretty much yells over everything. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>super </span>
  </em>
  <span>fuckin’ competitive. She’ll knock your teeth out to win.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church listened intently, although didn’t show it. He soaked up every word like a sponge, and felt he suddenly wanted to fall deeper into this boy’s personal life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “My dad’s all about business. He’s pretty laid back, though. Just never misses a Sunday of church. He never really pressed religion onto my siblings and I, though. Which is pretty cool.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church nodded at that, shifting his feet on the dash. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Are you close with your family?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>  Tucker smiles softly, giving a short nod. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Yeah, mostly. I’m really close with Lavender. Landri and I don’t talk much, she’s always super fuckin’ busy. She just got married, so she’s settling into her new life.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “And your dad?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...That’s where ‘mostly’ comes from. My dad was always the ‘have sex when you’re married’ kind of guy. He’s super religious. He never forced it on us, but I… I think he’s worried I’m going to Hell or something. I dunno, it’s complicated.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I guess you coming home with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>guy </span>
  </em>
  <span>won’t make matters better.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker’s face heats up, and suddenly he’s grateful for how dark his skin is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I-I mean we aren’t dating. I’ll explain that you’re just a friend, he shouldn’t make a big deal out of it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    Church sank lower into the seat, making his legs on the dash go further up. He simply pouted, a glare in his green eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Your dad a homophobe or something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker stiffened. “I.. I don’t know, actually. I’ve always liked girls, so it’s never been a subject to come up. I think I like guys too, but…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I know I like </span>
  </em>
  <span>you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>at least. “</span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s... I don’t know, dude.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    If Church had the cat ears, they would’ve perked. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I think I like guys too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker just shook his head, making a left turn and switching on his blinker. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The questions from Church were unusual, for everyone knew he was not a man of any interest in other people’s lives. But Tucker knew if he questioned it, Church would grow defensive and shut up completely. So instead, he took a deep breath, and asked a question himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “How’s your sister doing? Heard from her lately?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Nah, not in a while. Carolina’s currently stationed in Afghanistan. Probably won’t hear from her for a while, but she’ll be home soon.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker bristled at this information. “Afghanistan? That’s… rough. I couldn’t be a soldier, I don’t think.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Yeah, me neither. That’s not shit I wanna get involved with. Carolina’s a tough bitch though, she’ll be fine.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker snorted at that. He never had the pleasure of meeting her, but judging by the stories he’s heard, Tucker believes it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>  She sounds fucking terrifying. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   They drove for another hour before stopping to eat. They argued for roughly 45 minutes, however, and finally settled on a small diner just off of the highway they were driving through. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   It was small, but homey. People were seated everywhere, talking amongst themselves with home cooked breakfast food in front of them that put smiles on their faces. Kids were squirming in their seats as they ate, impatience getting the best of them as they waited for their food. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   They were seated by a waiter named Matthews, who had a boyish energy to him that drove Church up the </span>
  <em>
    <span>walls. </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   Matthews took their order, Church sitting on the other side of Tucker. Their food came in no less than 15 minutes (which greatly impressed Tucker). </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   A stack of waffles with no syrup, only butter, for Church and a stack of well-buttered pancakes with whipped cream, strawberries, and maple syrup for Tucker. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker took his first bite, soft sweetness filling his taste buds. He takes out his phone, checking the map for the road home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “So, we’ve been on the road for a little over an hour. My dad knows we’re coming, but I’m gonna have to tell him we’re getting a hotel at the halfway point.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church only nodded, a forkful of waffle entering his mouth as he listened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker looked up to the man across from him, his dark eyes falling down to Church’s throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Oh fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church hadn’t shaved it in a few days. Leaving stubble to gather around his jaw and neck. Tucker watched Church’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed silently. He rested his chin in his hand as Church zoned in on the food in front of him, morning light from the window beside them bleeding through to hit Church’s pale face. The light reflected off of Church’s green eyes through his thin glasses. In the light, his eyes reminded Tucker of fir trees.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He wanted to kiss him. So bad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   I could just lean over- </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You’re looking at me again. You know I hate staring.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker blinked rapidly at his friend’s sudden rumble. He makes eye contact, Church holding his fork loosely over his plate with a dull expression. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The gears in Tucker’s head turned suddenly, and he decided he needed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>just try again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I’m enjoying the view.” He smirks, taking a bite of pancake with pride. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church flushes, but his eyes glare aggressively at Tucker. “You’ve already used that one, jackass.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He puts more food into his mouth, refusing to make eye contact with the flirtatious man across from him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   I’m not losing again-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I can try another if that one didn’t work.” Tucker grins now, tilting his head to the side in his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church nearly choked on his waffle, his glasses loosening and falling to the lower half of his sharp nose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He clears his throat. “Save that shit for your parties. Keep me the fuck out of your flirt-fest.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker’s smile falls, only a fraction, before he forces it to brighten. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I only wanna use it on you though.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>wow, </span>
  </em>
  <span>that came out faster than Tucker could think, because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>said shit like that when trying to get into a chick’s pants. He didn’t like the idea of being fake when he flirted; he thought it was rather heartless. So straight-to-the-point was more Tucker’s style. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church visibly bristles, shoving his hands into the pockets of the hoodie he stole from Tucker’s drawers. His hard stare increased, boring what felt like a hole into Tucker’s forehead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker’s smile fell after that, moving his head to hang it low over the table as he groaned frustratingly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Oh my </span>
  <em>
    <span>god, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m not just trying to get into your pants dude-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Matthews invaded their moment, for better or worse Tucker couldn’t tell. “Would you guys like a refill on your orange juice?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church raised his head to glare at Matthews. He chuckles nervously, adjusting the collar of his uniform. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I’ll just- I’ll leave you guys to it!” He smiled, zipping away quickly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church sighed. “Let’s get back on the road.” He muttered, standing up and pulling out his wallet to tip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   They paid for their food, Tucker following Church as he quickly walked out of the small diner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Why. Why does he get so goddamn upset-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Because I have shitty people who ruined dating for me, Tucker.” Church snapped as he was standing outside the passenger’s door, waiting for Tucker to unlock it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   ...I had no idea I was thinking out loud…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker stopped in his footsteps, his hands dropping to his sides. He stood about 6 feet away from Church, in the parking lot as Church refused to make eye contact. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Then Church raised his gaze, glaring at Tucker in a form of challenge. It screamed </span>
  <em>
    <span>Test me, and I’ll kill you</span>
  </em>
  <span> to anyone who didn’t know Church. But Tucker knew it was more like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>prove to me that you aren’t a piece of shit, and I </span>
  </em>
  <span>might </span>
  <em>
    <span>let you live. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His hands were still in the pockets of the hoodie before he leaned his weight against the cold metal of the truck, his shoulder pressed against the doorframe and his long, </span>
  <em>
    <span>gorgeously thin, </span>
  </em>
  <span>legs crossed each other, left leg over the right as his stare bored into Tucker’s eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Why the fuck is he </span>
  </em>
  <span>this </span>
  <em>
    <span>gorgeous when he’s angry?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker’s mouth went dry as he watched Church, biting his lower lip. He looks at the gross tar below him, turning over every option for this situation in his brain at least 8 times. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Then his head snaps back up in Church’s direction, determination blazing in Tucker’s brown eyes. He crosses the 6 feet that separated he and Church, closing into Church’s space. Church didn’t dare move, his glare only getting harsher the closer Tucker got. Tucker stopped his movements, barely 3 inches away from his target’s face. Tucker tilts his head slightly to the side, returning the glare with his weight pressing against Church and flattening his back to the metal of the truck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>  “Fuckin’ do something, then.” Church whispers quietly with sharp venom, his green eyes flicking to Tucker’s full lips for only a second before finding brown eyes again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker growled softly in response, then closed the distance for good. His lips met Church’s, slow and languid at first. Hands fell to Church’s waist as he stood up straight and off Tucker’s truck. The ravenette growled roughly into the kiss, his rough and calloused hands coming up to grip the fabric of Tucker’s hoodie at his chest. He pulls Tucker in closer, deepening the kiss for them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church kissed just like he acted; angry, rough, and fast. Tucker knew this might be the case, but nothing prepared him for the real thing. Tucker let Church take control, a warm tongue pressing against Tucker’s bottom lip. He gladly opened his mouth for the offender, meeting him halfway. Their soft tongues glide across each other, Tucker’s hands gripping the slender waist in his hold tighter as their tongues moved.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church fought for dominance, which Tucker handed it over gladly. A soft moan escapes Tucker’s throat as Church pulls the taller man to him by wrapping his arms around his waist tightly. He pulls upwards, his wrists pressing to the small of Tucker’s back. The movement drags a small whine out of Tucker, his eyes closed blissfully as Church dominated his mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker could care less who could see them at this point. All that mattered was Church’s mouth, cold hands, and soft growls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   His tongue is literally down my throat, oh my god-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church started to pull back, with sharp nips to Tucker’s lips as he did so. He was breathing heavily, a deep flush across the bridge of his nose. Tucker pants softly, his face warm and his nerves on edge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker decided he absolutely needed </span>
  <em>
    <span>more. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He pushes Church against the door of his truck, attacking his neck with soft kisses and suckles. Church lets out a startled gasp, his right hand coming up to grip the hood of Tucker’s hoodie tightly in his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tucker-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker remembered where they were, pulling back with a slight grin to his expression. “Don’t want anyone to see you like this?” Tucker questioned slyly, licking a thick stripe up the tendon that led up the length of his pale neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church growled, then pressed against Tucker’s warm chest, putting space between them (with much, </span>
  <em>
    <span>much </span>
  </em>
  <span>regret). “...We have a long drive, come on.” He said gruffly, but Tucker could still see the desire in his irises. “Unlock the door so I can get in, idiot.” Church muttered, turning away from Tucker’s heavy gaze as his blush crept lower down his neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   God he’s so cute when he’s embarrassed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker sighed happily, pulling away from the embarrassed man in front of him. “...You look damn good in my hoodie, by the way.” He commented with a smirk, walking around to the driver’s seat. He unlocks his truck, Church getting in without a word of response. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker started the engine, and as he backed out he couldn’t help but ask- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>  “Are we-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>  “We’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything,</span>
  </em>
  <span> yet, idiot. You’re a good kisser, but I’m not gonna bend over for you just like that. You wanna date this train wreck, you gotta show me you’re worth it.” He said darkly, refusing to look at Tucker as he explained himself. “...Make me see you aren’t like every other asshole I’ve met in my stupid life.” Church adds quietly, his legs returning to the dash and his eyes suddenly telling a different story entirely. Tucker is fluent in Church, thankfully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Please don’t break me like the last person did.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The feel of Church’s lips was still lingering on his own, and his heart fluttered at the fact that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>got to kiss </span>
  <em>
    <span>Church. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker swallowed carefully, taking a deep breath as he turned on his blinker to drive out of the parking lot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>————————————</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   They drove for another 3 hours, Church dead asleep in the passenger seat. Tucker parked to refuel on gas, Church not budging at the sudden stop. Tucker stretched his stiff legs, then reached his arms upwards with a small groan as he did so. He took a deep breath, his lungs opening up as his arms reached as high as they could. Church finally stirred, his eyes blearily blinking away sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Mm...where are we?” Church’s voice was laced with sleep, gravelly and unused for three hours. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   And it sent shivers down Tucker’s spine as he stood in front of the gas pump. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Not far from our next exit. It’s like…” he checks his phone. “...Nearly noon. At around 6, we’ll find a place to sleep for the night.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You don’t wanna do night time drives?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Nah, I get really sleepy, and I know your ass will be asleep.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church contemplated for a moment, then sighed as if he was given a chore list of 15 things to do in an hour. “It’ll be cheaper if we keep driving. The address is up on your phone. I’ll drive at night, I don’t sleep anyway.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker looked back at him with an eyebrow raised. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I wouldn’t fuckin’ offer if I wasn’t. Want me to change my mind?” He counters, glaring back at his roommate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>  “N-no! Go ahead dude, I don’t give a fuck.” He smiled then, the butterflies in his stomach coming back up in rapid motion. “Thanks.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Whatever.” He rolled his eyes, as expected, but not without a tint of pink spreading over the bridge of his sharp nose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   After they refueled, they were on the road again. Time went by quicker than Tucker expected; before he knew it, it was already 5:30 in the evening. They had killed the snacks they packed (</span>
  <em>
    <span>what the fuck how can Church eat </span>
  </em>
  <span>so much </span>
  <em>
    <span>and be so damned </span>
  </em>
  <span>thin</span>
  <em>
    <span>???), </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Church could hear Tucker’s stomach as he drove. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Wanna stop for something to eat?” He questioned, playing on his phone with his feet on the dash again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>  “Hell yes.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   They stopped at a Whataburger, eating as they continued their drive. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   They talked about everything and nothing all at once. Church getting pantsed in high school, Tucker when he had his braces in the seventh grade, and Church’s only pet that passed when he was 14. “A dumbass cat”, Church called it. But Tucker could tell he missed the feline dearly just by looking at his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   They spoke for what felt like hours before they switched drivers, Tucker exhausted from driving for over 9 consistent hours. Church would drive the rest of the way, following the map on Tucker’s iPhone. Said teenager had wrapped the blue blanket Church brought around his body, bundled up with a pillow behind his head against the window. He was out in minutes, his breaths evening out over time. Church stole quick glances as he drove, soaking up the peaceful expression on his friend’s face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   Wow. He’s a lot less annoying when he’s not fuckin’ awake.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker had headphones in, softly playing music as he sleeps. His cheek was squished against the soft cushion of the pillow with the blanket up to his chin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   And it was absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>ridiculous </span>
  </em>
  <span>how cute he looked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   How dare he.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   Church didn’t let himself dwell on the thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>______________________</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker slept the entire night, leaving Church to his thoughts while he drove. However, the last hour of the drive tested Church’s will power. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He was in and out of his thoughts, either thinking of nothing at all or of Tucker’s warm lips against his own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Jesus, I didn realize how fucking cold I am until that bastard kissed me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He shivered at the thought, a chill going up his spine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The thought of warm hands and a sweet smile crept up on the tired man, threatening to make his heart flip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The man intruding his thoughts shifted in his sleep, a soft groan followed with a few incoherent mumbles escaping his mouth. Church spared him a glance, noticing Tucker’s huddled body against the pillow. His legs curled in a few inches, blanket wrapped tightly around his frame. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church did everything in his power to ignore the sounds coming from his roommate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   But alas, the Universe likes to play with his heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker let out a whine; high and </span>
  <em>
    <span>needy. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church’s grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles turning white. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>For fuck’s sake- </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   And just like that, Tucker was silent again. His body stopped squirming and his face relaxed, edges smoothing out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church couldn’t stop the sigh of relief.  Che </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolutely </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn’t prepared to deal with whatever it was Tucker was dreaming about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church glanced at the map on Tucker’s phone, the device on the dashboard and unlocked for his convenience. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Only 15 minutes to go before they reached Tucker’s home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   It was already 6:30 in the morning. Anxiety was suddenly building up in the back of Church’s throat. He couldn’t figure out where it came from, but it made his skin crawl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He couldn’t remember the last time he went to meet somebody’s parents. Was it Tex’s parents? That was at least 2 years ago. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker’s stirs pulled him out of his thoughts, Church’s green eyes suddenly hyper focused on the brunette. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Hey, ‘s morning…” he muttered softly once he opened a single, chocolate eye to examine his surroundings. The early signs of morning light danced across his iris, brightening the chocolate into a soft copper. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   With his heart squeezing, Church forced out a bitter tone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Yeah dumbass, you’ve been out for the night. We’re almost there.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker groans against the pillow before slowly adjusting his limbs to sit up. His eyes adjust to the light, voice unused for several hours. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I know where we are.” He said suddenly, brown eyes scanning the neighborhood. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   It was a quiet place. It was filled with trees that lined the sidewalks, some overhanging a fence from the yards they grew it. Very little activity showed it’s presence, save for an early-morning jogger here and there. Frost was scattered in lawns, glittering brightly and beautifully in the early morning rays. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Peaceful. The neighborhood was </span>
  <em>
    <span>peaceful. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Yeah? Well I fucking don’t. Where the hell are we?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “A little town called Bloodgulch, my friend.” He said with a hint of fondness in his voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “That’s a weird name for a town.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “There’s a lot of weird in this town in general, dude.” Tucker replied with a yawn, rubbing the sleep out of his left eye. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church only snorts at that. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   Tucker pointed out his driveway; it was short and covered in colorful drawings made from chalk. Butterflies, colorful clouds, and caterpillars were scattered across the concrete in various positions. The house itself was made of rough brick, compact and somewhat homey. There was a massive chimney seen at the back of the house, sturdy and wide. The door was a beautiful, rich mahogany color, with a glittering window attached to it. Various flower bushes were scattered here and there, shriveled from the bitter cold of winter with frost right where they were planters in the dirt. An oak tree was close by, its size expressing age, time, and the possibility of past treehouses. It’s branches hung over the lower area of the roof, leafless and almost frozen in time due to the ice. A ragged, old tire was attached to a thick branch, left in the silence of the early morning and begging for repairs at its rope; frayed strings and dirt covered the thick confines of the rope. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Overall, it wasn’t really what Church had expected. Really, he didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>what </span>
  </em>
  <span>to expect. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   And suddenly, the anxiety was back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Okay. I can do this. It’s not like we’re dating. I don’t think. It’s just his dad. It’s just a person. You don’t do well with people but you can make it work-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Hey, you okay? You look nervous, dude.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church didn’t notice the way he was gripping the wheel until Tucker broke his train of thought. He releases his grip, taking a deep breath before answering. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I’m fuckin’ fine, Tucker. Don’t worry about me. Come on, let’s get this shit over with.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You make it sound like a chore,” he snorts, grinning as he opened the passenger door of his truck. Tucker closes it behind him as his lungs take in crisp, winter air. He stretched his legs, then his arms as Church did the same before grabbing his bag and unceremoniously throwing Tucker’s his own (to which Tucker did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>catch, fumbling as it fell to the ice). </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Fuck, that drive </span>
  <em>
    <span>killed </span>
  </em>
  <span>my ass.” Tucker grumbled, bringing Church to his doorstep. Church had shoved his hands into the pockets of the hoodie he wore, huffing as Tucker knocked on the glass of the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Unconsciously, Church scooted about half a foot closer to his roommate as silent anxiety crept up slower and slower; because being anxious about the rate of being anxious is kinda his life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   Tucker’s father was- well, again, not what he expected. He had a shadow of stubble over his jaw and chin, with a slight receding hairline and a soft pop belly. Church noticed they shared the same gentle, slightly mischievous brown eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>  Tucker could only offer a sheepish smile, obviously waiting for a sign of approval. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   His father only smiled a little back, albeit fondly as he nodded at his son. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Come inside, I’m sure you and your friend have had a long drive.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church watched as Tucker’s body visibly relaxed in relief, a dark hand coming to hold onto the elbow of the worn hoodie the raven had on. He’s drug into their home by Tucker, his father making sure they wiped their shoes of ice and dirt on the mat before entering. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The first thing that came to Church’s view was the kitchen; mostly clean, with a few dishes in the sink and an abandoned coloring book on the dining table. The morning light had a direct hit to the rough, well-used wooden table and cast a still effect in the kitchen. If he squinted, Church could see the dust particles in the line of the lighting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Lavender is still asleep, so watch your volume, Lavernius.” He tilted his head in Church’s direction (clearly suspicious of his motives of being here), and offered a hand. “The name’s Laurence, but you can call me Mr. Tucker.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church cautiously shook the man’s hand, keeping on guard (as he always did with new people), before shoving his hand back in a pocket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Leonard Church. Just Church is fine.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Laurence only nods in acknowledgement before moving his gaze to his son. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You boys hungry? I can cook up breakfast.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Brightness filled Tucker’s features, his bag forgotten on a nearby couch. “Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>god </span>
  </em>
  <span>yes! I’ve been eating ramen out of a cup for </span>
  <em>
    <span>weeks.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Laurence smiles a little at that, knowing damn well how that could be, being a college graduate himself. “Alright, wake your sister. You know how she always wants the first plate.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker nodded as they went opposite ways, Church suddenly having an internal panic attack. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Wow don’t leave me h-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I’ll be back, you big baby. Like, 2 minutes </span>
  <em>
    <span>max.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Tucker urged, then slipped up a short stack of wooden stairs to what Church assumed to be his sister’s room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   And… cue the awkward silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church stood uncomfortably, still at the doorway with his backpack sling on his shoulder as Laurence pulled eggs out of the fridge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   What broke the silence was both a blessing and a curse;</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You aren’t, by any chance, Doctor Church’s boy, are you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Oh fuck me sideways. Of </span>
  </em>
  <span>course </span>
  <em>
    <span>this side of the state’s heard of him-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“So what if I am?” Church questioned with teeth bared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Oh good! Now you’re being an asshole to the father of a guy you actually kinda like! Way to go, Leonar-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“I wasn’t attackin’ ya for it, boy. Just curious.” And he meant it. His words were light, and genuine as he turned on the stove to prepare the eggs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I had no idea his boy went to college, or even how old you are. Most only knew of his daughter.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “And how did you find out about my old man? News? A warrant for his arrest in the newspaper?” He asked sarcastically, slouching in his usual demeanor. “Or did you happen to see his mugshot on the internet?” He changed positions, taking a few steps forward before leaning his weight on one foot and his hands buried in the hoodie, shoving the pockets downward towards the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “We were friends in high school.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   That shut Church up </span>
  <em>
    <span>quick, </span>
  </em>
  <span>because he hadn’t met </span>
  <em>
    <span>anybody </span>
  </em>
  <span>who knew his father who wasn’t some weird relative from 400 miles away in the middle of nowhere. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I- what? You went to Sidewinder High?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Another chuckle. “I did, yes, a long time ago. He was a good friend, and a genius at that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Green eyes narrow at the response; he wasn’t used to anything… </span>
  <em>
    <span>positive, </span>
  </em>
  <span>about his father. To be fair, Church knew his father wasn’t always a huge dick. But he often forgot that he, too, had a normal life before he had he and Carolina. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Yeah. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>great.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Church said with venom, prepared to verbally drag his own kin in the dirt of need be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “No, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>good, </span>
  </em>
  <span>not great. I know what he did, boy. I’m not here to praise the man he is now; only to remember who he was before.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   This… definitely caught Church off guard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Most only talked about the Now, the Present. Talked about the abuse, the lies and the bizarre experiments that went horribly wrong in a lonely, cold lab. They talked about the weird and oddly aggressive redhead of a girl who clung to her daddy’s lab coat when out in public to get groceries. They would talk about the strange and pale boy who never interacted with the man his sister clung to for dear life; always at least 2 feet apart with up to 6 walls surrounding him to guard himself from the man who claimed to be his kin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Nobody, </span>
  <em>
    <span>nobody </span>
  </em>
  <span>talked about </span>
  <em>
    <span>before</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Before Church could say anything else, Tucker came downstairs with a tired and groggy 14 year old who held his hand as they walked together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Immediately, Church was drawn to her. Lavender was… peculiar. Her hair was curly, like springs, and she had it in a loose ponytail with an outrageous hair piece covered in green glitter. Curls were sprung </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span> and in all directions. She had a purple pajama shirt with the words “I’m Just Fine, Thanks” in a white, bold font. But what caught Church’s eyes was the curious and pale make across her cheek bone. It looked like a scar, stretching from her jaw up to the highest point of her cheek. It was bold, with the color contrast so stark it’s the first thing you notice if you didn’t know her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Come on, I got somebody for you to meet.” Tucker said with a smile, his sister letting him guide her as she sleepily kept her eyes closed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Wow, did you get a real girlfriend?” She asked with snark, smirking as she spoke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Well, sorta, kid. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“Eh, close enough. C’mon, open your eyes, Lavender.” He nudges her, the sound of an eggshell cracking with sizzling following it in the background. Lavender does as she’s told, the little girl standing in front of the thin ravenette. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...Oh. So you got a real </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriend.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>Laurence tenses at the choice of words, but decided to disregard her comment as simple teasing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker, on the other hand, felt his face heat as he chuckled nervously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Uh, no, kiddo. He’s a friend from school. This trainwreck’s name is Church.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church’s eyes narrowed in accusation, immediately assuming she’d committed murder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Pleased to fuc-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker’s eyes fell into full </span>
  <em>
    <span>panic mode</span>
  </em>
  <span> before Church caught himself (although he was far more panicked about his father hearing them than his little sister).</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Freakin’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>meet you.” He corrected, adjusting his glasses as he took a good look at what the hell he was dealing with here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He wasn’t really great with kids; they drove him up with the walls with their constant screaming, complaining and </span>
  <em>
    <span>questions. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You do anything cool?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Do I look like a freakin’ circus animal to you.” He said rather than asked, flatly at that with a snarl in his expression; flashing those </span>
  <em>
    <span>strangely sharp </span>
  </em>
  <span>canines. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Yeah, a little. Kinda like a tired lion that wants to cut somebody,” she tilts her head thoughtfully, examining her brother’s roommate. “...You got some weird teeth, mister.” </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   “...Tucker, get this thing away from m-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “She’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>precious </span>
  </em>
  <span>and has never done anything wrong in her </span>
  <em>
    <span>life.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church only glared in response, but the moment was broken when Laurence called for Tucker’s help with the bacon. He nodded in reply before coming over to help his father in the kitchen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Leaving Church with the gremlin, alone, in the middle of the living room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “So are you his boyfriend or not?” She crosses her arms in curiosity, tilting her curly-haired head to the side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church shot daggers at her. “Listen, kid, I know your kind. You hear me? You’re the kind of little snot who’s gonna put ants in my bed when I sleep. I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>see it in your eyes-“ </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Are you saying this because you’re afraid of kids or because you </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>that kid?” Lavender smiled sweetly as she made herself comfortable on a small couch behind her, wiggling until seated in comfort with her hands in her lap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Does this brat expect some kind of presentation or something?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...you look </span>
  <em>
    <span>sickenly </span>
  </em>
  <span>entertained.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I am, actually. Lavernius doesn’t really bring people home. You’re one of the first, actually!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church raised an eyebrow at that statement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>That’s… unexpected. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He cautiously sits across from her in a little cozy recliner that was separated from Lavender by a short, glass coffee table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Yeah, I bet. Considering his garbage personality I don’t expect any sleep overs happening here when he was a stupid kid.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You know, you’re awfully mean. You don’t seem like my big brother’s type.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I’m not mean, kid, I’m just bitter.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church felt his face grow a little warm, but he forced it back with all his will. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>This little shit is </span>
  </em>
  <span>not </span>
  <em>
    <span>gonna win- </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Lavernius likes green eyes.” Lavender said suddenly, her voice filled with excitement as she noticed the forest green behind Church’s thin glasses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   This time, he couldn’t stop the pink coloring going up his neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “And just </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>do you know that, kid?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “He told me. Your eyes are </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>green. They’re actually pretty! Mine are just brown.. but Lav’s eyes are too so it’s cool that we match-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>   ‘Just’ brown? Kid, your brother’s eyes are literally the fucking embodiment of warmth and you have them too-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“My eyes look like my fathers. There’s nothing ‘pretty’ about them. Eyes are eyes, kid.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Lavender soaks up his words, then smiles back at Church. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Eyes are story books! What kind of story book do you have?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church’s body went rigid at her seemingly innocent question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   What kind of story </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>he have?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Definitely not one appropriate for this little girl. But a part of him wanted to simplify it for her, anyway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>She’s smart, I’ll give her that. I can at least appreciate that much.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He thought hard about it; about his home life, past school life and past relationships; platonic and romantic. Then he thinks of Tucker, and the little positive influence he has on him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I’m making a new one right now. The old one had a lot of typos.” He said finally, satisfied with his metaphor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Is my brother a main character in your story?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...You ask a lot of questions, kid.” </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   She only smiled in return, then the two were called to the kitchen as Tucker leaned over his father’s shoulder to project his voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Hey! Food’s ready, guys.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I call the first plate!” Lavender hopped up from the couch, running the short distance to the kitchen and standing right in front of the stove. Tucker smiles widely, grabbing a paper plate from a cabinet above him to hand to his little sister. Laurence chuckled to himself, flipping a fried egg over before placing the warm, freshly cooked happiness onto the girl’s plate. Upon further inspection, Church noticed the egg yolk on her plate was solid, like a boiled egg. 3 strips of bacon were placed beside the egg before she thanked her father and sat at the kitchen table (in front of the abandoned coloring book, to which she had completely forgotten it was there in the first place).</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker prepared another plate with his father. 4 strips of bacon, with two eggs; both were poached, too, a specific trait that Church liked. Tucker had fried the eggs this time while his father cooked the bacon. He hands Church the plate, stuck out his tongue in good fun, then starts preparing his own plate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church muttered a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thanks, </span>
  </em>
  <span>because he had no idea Tucker actually paid any attention to how he ate his eggs in waffle houses and when they actually had the time to make some themselves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   All four sat at the table, Lavender asking her big brother a thousand questions about college as she had bacon stuffed into her mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Is the campus big? Have you met anybody cool there? Did you get into any fights? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>win </span>
  </em>
  <span>the fights?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church snorts at the last question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Sorry, kid, but your brother’s not much of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fighter.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker looked at his roommate with feigned offense. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I’m a lover, not a fighter. And besides,” he looked at his sister with a blinding grin. “If I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>get into a fight, I’d send them back to their mamas.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Lavender was happy with the answer, for her eyes sparkled and her smile widened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Laurence spoke up in turn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “How’re your grades?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker’s body tensed at the question, then forced himself to relax. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “They’re great, pops. Turns out Church is a better teacher than my professor.” He said with pride swelling in his heart, sending the man in question a wink. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church could only narrow his eyes and send silent death threats with what he hoped to be telepathy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “So, you’ve been tutoring my son?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...I mean, yeah. You could say that. He asks like a million freakin’ questions.” Church avoided eye contact, stuffing eggs into his mouth indignantly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “What? I ask like… one a night!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Tucker, I do half the freakin’ work for you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Laurence smiled a little; his son’s grades were his biggest concern. Tucker struggled in high school; he wasn’t exactly an idiot, he just had a hard time focusing, and let himself get distracted by any means necessary. He was definitely lazy sometimes, but not stupid. Procrastination was also his best friend, but he wouldn’t admit that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Well, it’s good your grades aren’t suffering.” He turned his gaze to Church, curiosity in his brown eyes. “What do you major in, Church?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Oh! Do you major in crime? Or bioengineering? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh wait, </span>
  </em>
  <span>what about explosives? Is there a major for that?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Lavender, manners, sweetie.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Sorry, daddy..”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Okay, that was kind of cute, but she’s still a gremlin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...Aerospace engineering. It’s a hobby I’ve had for a while.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Laurence’s eyes went a little wide before he spoke. “Really? Well, that’s a mighty fine major right there. What are your plans outside of college, then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church swallowed his bite of fresh bacon before speaking. “N.A.S.A, hopefully.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wow, </span>
  </em>
  <span>N.A.S.A? That’s so cool! Can you send me to space? With a dog? Can you build a rocket ship?” Lavender’s smile was unbelievably contagious, and Church couldn’t stop the offending upturn of his lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “How about this; I can send you to space, then eject your seat and launch your little butt into deep space and leave you there forever.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh my god could you really do that-“</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Her excitement overflowed, her food completely forgotten as she practically </span>
  <em>
    <span>vibrated. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “My friend here is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>launching you into space, Lavender.” Tucker said flatly before judging his roommate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   They finished breakfast, Tucker helping his father clean the kitchen as Church sat in the living room with his little sister. She asked a thousand more questions, each more ridiculous than one before it (</span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Can you make me my own planet?’ ‘Kid, do you know how NASA actually works?’) </span>
  </em>
  <span>. But Church answered them all with equally ridiculous responses before Tucker finally drug him upstairs to his own bedroom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Which, </span>
  <em>
    <span>wow, </span>
  </em>
  <span>this room was dorky. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>      The walls were painted a dark teal, the ceiling white and smooth. On the walls were various band posters (Nirvana, The Beastie Boys, and a band Church didn’t exactly recognize called ‘Trocadero’). Tucker’s walls also had a few movie posters; Godzilla, Star Trek, and The Matrix were scattered across without any order or organization. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Oh my god, he’s a fucking dork- oh hey I actually have that poster-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker’s window has a view of the driveway, with some string lights (with dead batteries) framing it. His bed was in the farthest corner of his room, black bed sheets with white and teal-trimmed pillows. A small desk was next to it, the desk covered in Pop figures from various anime (Sailor Moon, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood and Dragonball Z were the most common) as well as several pens and pencils scattered across the smooth surface. A table lamp sat to the right of the desk, unplugged and unused for many months. Across the foot of Tucker’s bed was a birch-colored dresser with white shelves full of album covers above it. They were stacked neatly against one another, clearly unused for a while. A record played was actually on top of the dresser, its surface covered in a thin layer of dust. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   An Xbox, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>original, </span>
  </em>
  <span>sat on the floor against a wall, hooked up to a small flatscreen tv that sat on a small white desk. Next to it were a couple of video game cases; Halo: Combat Evolved and Halo 2. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You’re a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>nerd-“ </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I see you eyeing my Xbox, don’t fucking start with me. And I haven’t met </span>
  <em>
    <span>anybody </span>
  </em>
  <span>aside from that Simmons kid who likes Game of Thrones and Star Wars more than </span>
  <em>
    <span>you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>so shut the fuck up and put your shit wherever.” Tucker bumps his shoulder against Church’s with a smirk, tossing his backpack on his floor by the bed and pulling his suitcase to the foot of the bed frame. Church smirked inwardly before dropping his bag against a wall by Tucker’s door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You wanna play some Halo?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   That smirk Church harbored turned into a smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“Fuck yeah I wanna play. I’m player one, though.” </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>________________________</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   Evening came quicker than Tucker expected.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Laurence ordered pizza for dinner; a box of cheese for himself and Lavender and 2 boxes of pepperoni for the boys. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church had already brushed his teeth, having changed into a pair of gray sweats and a thin, black tank top with the NASA logo faintly printed at the chest. Tucker put on a pair of black sweats, but removed his shirt all together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The two played Halo 2’s campaign together, wanting to see if they could finish it in entirety by midnight while on Heroic. That, of course, didn’t happen, because Church couldn’t shoot to save his life. They made it to Metropolis before Tucker got up to take a fast shower (Church having already done this; he preferred to do it all early and get it out of the way). </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   Tucker did everything he absolutely fucking could to keep himself from jerking right then and there in the shower. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The entire day he’s had Church against him. He’s irritated that it had as much of an effect on him as it did, but he couldn’t control it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Dude, come on, you’re not in middle school anymore.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>Tucker came out of the shower with a towel wrapped low around his waist, his hair still damp. Church, on the other hand, had wrapped himself up in a cocoon of a fortress with Tucker’s blanket while he was gone. Glasses no longer covered his face, the item set on Tucker’s desk to reveal a tired, yet somewhat happy face. His legs were pulled to his face, chin resting on his knees with his eyes closed in silent bliss. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The image before him made Tucker’s heart do a backflip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck he’s not allowed to be that cute-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You look like a fucking grandma.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church opened his eyes at the offending words, turning his head to shoot a glare at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Your room is </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking cold.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “What? It’s like 75° in here-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Cold.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Church’s eyes were nearly closed with how hard he was squinting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...You can’t see me can yo-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I can see well enough to know you’re a jackass.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He snuggles tighter into the cocoon, pulling the blankets taut around his frame. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   A snicker escapes Tucker’s lips, his roommate's situation rather comical in his eyes as he goes to his closet for pants. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Hey </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tucker, </span>
  </em>
  <span>are you laughing at me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Kinda. Now move over, I want some blanket, too. And you better not have-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I didn’t fucking play while you were gone, calm down.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church opened one arm like a fabricated wing, giving Tucker a spot in the cocoon. Tucker grabbed Church’s glasses from his desk and handed them over. The youngest of the two gladly squeezed in, picking up his controller before settling close against his friend. Tucker took the blanket that draped over his shoulder and pulled it tighter, his bare shoulders pressing firm against Church. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Why is he so fucking cold, goddamn. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Alright, let’s fucking do this. We still have 4 hours before it’s midnight, and with your shit shot-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>a shit shot, you’re just always in my fucking way.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>____________________________</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   4 hours of gameplay turned into 7. They lost track of time rather quickly, with the Xbox finally turned off and an exhausted Tucker slumped against Church, their backs to the headboard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker’s face was pressed to Church’s sharp shoulder, warmth radiating off of him. Church’s body demanded the heat, craving to inch closer until he confined himself into Tucker’s lap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Why is my body always so goddamn cold?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   But his paranoia forced him to keep his hands to himself. They twitched in anticipation, his brain hyper aware of Tucker’s presence as he greedily soaked up his body heat. Tucker himself had his eyes closed, but he wasn’t necessarily asleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Warm, sturdy arms slid over Church’s chest and around his back. His spine goes rigid at the touch, but drips into relaxation when Tucker mutters </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m only hugging you, chill. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church finally gave in to his cravings; he pulled from Tucker’s hold, leaving him to whine in protest, only to push his body up and against the headboard so he could crawl into Tucker’s lap (</span>
  <em>
    <span>like a freakin’ cat, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tucker thought). His actions left the younger speechless as Church settled in like it’s a nest in the spring. His sharp nose buried into a warm, chorded neck before he inhaled, then exhaled deeply. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The feeling of warm breath against Tucker’s neck sent thrills up his spine. His body shifts until he has his arms wrapped securely around Church’s slender frame. He rests his chin on top of black, fluffy hair, his mind running a million miles an hour in the silence of his bedroom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He couldn’t really stop the constant questioning. Not just his sexuality, but as well as </span>
  <em>
    <span>what the fuck are we.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tucker was </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>certain when with a partner. He always stated what he wanted beforehand, always blunt and to the point. There were no crossed wires or awkward strings attached; he got what he wanted, gave his partner what they wanted, then left. It was always that simple. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Then </span>
  <em>
    <span>Church</span>
  </em>
  <span> came into his life; quite suddenly at that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Maybe Tucker just liked a challenge. Or maybe he just liked having someone that wasn’t his father push him to be better, for once. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Whatever the reason, Tucker guessed it didn’t matter, because right at this moment he had </span>
  <em>
    <span>the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Leonard Church in his lap. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   In his lap and mouthing at his neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Fuck- hey, what’re you-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Getting you back for the shit you pulled at the waffle house.” A soft growl in his words, sharp canines coming up to scrape against a tendon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Limbs readjust, Church moving until he’s situated properly in Tucker’s lap. His mouth latches to a warm neck, teeth scraping over the junction of neck and shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker was more than happy with the adjustment, warm hands sliding around to squeeze a narrow waist. Church’s legs rest on either side of Tucker’s thighs in a loose straddle as the latter’s hands come up to toy with the straps of Church’s tank top. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   A guttural, </span>
  <em>
    <span>possessive </span>
  </em>
  <span>growl slips from Church at the advancement. He pulls back from Tucker’s neck to remove the offending article of clothing, grabbing it from the back and pulling up until he could throw it harshly to the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker’s chest was all-too-distracting for Church; nimble hands came up to paw and squeeze at a dark chest, his hips suddenly gyrating in his place. The sudden movement forces a groan out of Tucker, the friction too much- yet not enough at all. His hands fall to Church’s small waist again, gripping tightly as he leans in to latch onto a pale, bare neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tucker I-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker pulls back only to pull Church’s head down for a deep, open-mouthed kiss. It pulls a whine from Church; high-pitched and </span>
  <em>
    <span>needy. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His body relaxes into the kiss, melting in time with the man below him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   It felt right. He wasn’t sure why, but it did. Tucker felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>right. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He shouldn’t. He’s nothing like Church. His polar opposite, and not in a good way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>He’s impulsive, fucking annoying and can’t focus on one goddamn thing to save his life- </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>Every flaw Tucker had only made him more compatible for Church. Both of their flaws balanced each other out almost perfectly; and to Tucker’s credit, Church was absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>bored when Tucker’s around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   When Tucker pulled away from the kiss, he was ridiculously out of breath. He hadn’t kissed like this in </span>
  <em>
    <span>months, </span>
  </em>
  <span>much less held anybody. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He buries his face in Church’s sternum, arms wrapped taut around his waist to pull Church as close to his body as possible. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker takes a deep breath before speaking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Leo, I- </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tucker inhales again, hands smoothing over a pale back.  “Tell me to stop, and I will. But you gotta tell me now, dude, because I don’t think I can stop if-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The nickname nearly broke Church completely. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   “If you fucking stop, I’ll slit your throat, asshole.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   That pulls a chuckle from Tucker, deep and genuine and </span>
  <em>
    <span>loving. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...I-I’ve never done this with a dude, Church. I don’t-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Just fuck me. There’s nothing else to it. It just takes more prep, and I know </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn well </span>
  </em>
  <span>you have lube in here </span>
  <em>
    <span>somewhere,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Church shifts, rolling his hips to try and find any form of friction. “Fuck just- just let me ride you, idiot.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker was almost positive his brain melted into a thick puddle of absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>mush. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   From day </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tucker’s wanted this man bouncing on his lap, and the opportunity had finally arrived. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   And he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to pass it up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I- okay, okay I can do this. Fuck, what if I hurt you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You won’t hurt me, idiot,” he sighs, forehead pressing to Tucker’s as his eyes flutter shut before he whispers into the sudden silence of Tucker’s dark room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “...I promise, you won’t.” </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>________________________</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   Sunlight warmed the room. It shone through blinds, gold and white being absorbed by black bed sheets like a black hole. It made the bed all the warmer, encasing the boys in safety and warmth; a stark contrast to the frost just outside Tucker’s window on his lawn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The previous night’s events left Church as the little spoon, his back flush against Tucker’s warm chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church was the first to stir; his eyes refused to take in light, so they remained closed as his body adjusted to the new body against his own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   This type of comfort- bliss, warmth, and the sleepiness encompassing his body- was rare for Church. He hadn’t felt this level of, dare he say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>happiness </span>
  </em>
  <span> in several years. His body was more relaxed than it had ever been, and he slept better the night before than any other night in his entire 19 years life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   A dark hand was coiled around his middle, holding Church’s body snug against his chest in a relaxed yet possessive manner. Their legs were a tangled mess, intertwined like a braid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The warmth was a foreign feeling to Church. His body was always deathly cold, and he never really questioned it until he had the opportunity to practically feel a furnace beneath his hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The memories began to flood back in like a tidal wave when Church feels Tucker’s member pressed firm to the small of his back. Everything, </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>hit him all at once like a train. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker had almost no godly idea what to do. He was overthinking (again), doubting himself in everything he did. And, more than anything, he was terrified of fucking up and either hurting Church or his (fucking fragile) ego. The last thing he wanted was to talk so much talk about fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>all the time </span>
  </em>
  <span>only to ultimately pull a virgin move with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>first guy he’s ever fucked. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   But Tucker was a fast learner. When he received a better understanding, he grew more confident; and more </span>
  <em>
    <span>rough. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   It was weird, for Church. He was used to fast, rough and little to no affection. Tucker, on the other hand, was gentle, careful, and considerate; with the added bonus of also being extremely </span>
  <em>
    <span>rough </span>
  </em>
  <span>with Church’s ass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker couldn’t get enough of it, and Church was completely keen on using that knowledge to his advantage in the future. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He shifts; a small wiggle against Tucker’s embrace. He tries to use his voice, but lack of use for hours left it gravelly and garbled at best. Church groans softly in content, wiggling closer to Tucker’s warm body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He took another moment to relish in the soft moment, his stubble rubbing against a black pillow as he buried his face in it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Then a wet, warm tongue lazily presses to the nape of Church’s neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Fuck, morning, idiot.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He only received a quiet hum in response, then a quiet, barely audible growl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Your body’s warm.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Gravelly, rough, and fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I think that’s just your ridiculously overheated body, Tucker. Not me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   A soft nip to Church’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Mm, no, it’s definitely you. Fuck, you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>warm-“ his arms coil like a snake around Church’s waist and middle, his mouth suddenly (and with absolutely minimal effort) laved over a pale neck, nipping and kissing like it’s all he ever did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You left marks, you know that? I gotta fucking cover them, moron.” He resisted the twitch in his cock, but couldn’t stop his hips from rolling back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   All movement stops. Tucker’s hold loosens, only a fraction of a second, before it’s suddenly a vice around his body once more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Maybe I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>you to cover them.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Heat pooled at Church’s abdomen, a wave of arousal washing over him like he walked into the sunshine for the first time in his life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>we can’t do that with your family-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “But when we get back to school, you’re absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>covering them, dude.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The statement halted Church’s  thinking; it implied they’d do this again. It implied that there would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>more, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and that this wasn’t just a one night stand that Church was so completely used to these days. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Fine, but as soon as summer rolls around I’m scratching the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>out of your back and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to show it off. Got it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   That definitely did a number on Tucker. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Oh my </span>
  <em>
    <span>god </span>
  </em>
  <span>I wanna fuck you right now-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church couldn’t stop the grin that slid across his face. Couldn’t, and wouldn’t. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker moves his body, dragging his body up and hovering over a thin, unexpectedly strong frame. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Then, instead of the expected bite or kiss, Church received careful, warm hands on either side of his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker sat on top of Church, blankets pooled around their bodies. He couldn’t stop himself from holding </span>
  <em>
    <span>what was finally his.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>And I belong to him, too. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   His thumb traces a sharp cheekbone, hair falling over the right side of his face and over Church’s like a curtain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church’s eyes were </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>green; like lightning in the sunlight and earthy in the shadows. They expressed everything Church’s face and body language didn’t. His anger, his exhaustion, his satisfaction, his irritation and </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much more. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   A smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church smiled; soft and loving and </span>
  <em>
    <span>so unlike himself. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Oh my god. Are you- are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>smiling?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Immediately the facial expression was gone and replaced with a scowl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “No, jackass. Now get off of me, I’m fucking hungry. What time is it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Immune to his malice, Tucker smirked before looking to the clock on his end table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “It’s only 7. My dad’s gone for work by now. My sister is definitely asleep.” He leans in, kissing Church’s forehead. “Come on, I’ll make you something.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church refused to let his disappointment of Tucker’s body being removed from his own show. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Refused. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker put on a pair of clean shorts, black and soft. Church sat up, stretching his arms upwards with a soft groan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I need a way to hide these marks, Tucker.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Just wear one of my hoodies, dude. The hood should cover them.” He pulls out a teal, well-worn hoodie from his suitcase. He tosses the fabric to the man in his bed, who didn’t wait another moment to put it on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   They were both </span>
  <em>
    <span>ridiculously </span>
  </em>
  <span>lucky Tucker only left marks on his shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Fuck, my </span>
  <em>
    <span>ass-“ </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “With pleasure, babe-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I will fucking end you </span>
  <em>
    <span>right now.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>_________________________</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   Church decided he liked watching Tucker cook. He was kinda clumsy when he did it, but he knew what he was doing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    Church assumed it was because of his father working so much as a single parent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church sat at the kitchen table, his chin resting at the palm of his hand as he observed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker was making pancakes; from scratch, too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The older of the two decided he wanted to participate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   He gets up, walking into Tucker’s space as he works. His cold hands rest on his lover’s(?) bare waist before he drops his chin onto a solid shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “I’m surprised you didn’t bitch about how early it is. It’s all you ever do back at the dorms.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker scoffs, “Church, when you have an actual </span>
  <em>
    <span>model </span>
  </em>
  <span>in your bed when you wake up, you have no room to complain.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Damn straight I’m a model.” Sarcasm laced his words, hands tugging lightly at the hem of Tucker’s shorts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You know, I could get this done faster if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>helped.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tucker smiled, knowing damn well Church was useless in a kitchen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Why do that when I can suck you off,” he muttered every word against Tucker’s ear, hands transitioning from light tugs to hard jerks of the elastic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Fuck, okay, yeah I can’t pass this up-“ he drops the bowl he previously held, turning to face Church only to be pushed up against the counter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church was already on his knees, forehead pressed against a solid pelvis with hands coming up to pull down soft fabric. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   There were no words to express how grateful Church was for the lack of Tucker’s briefs. His cock was exposed to the cool air, the kitchen chilly due to the winter frost outside. A shiver shocked through Tucker’s spine, anxiety and anticipation spreading like wildfire. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   Tucker decided he liked receiving blowjobs from men even more than women. Maybe it was the fact it came from </span>
  <em>
    <span>Church, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he was obviously experienced because the man swallowed him </span>
  <em>
    <span>whole </span>
  </em>
  <span>without a second thought. But it didn’t matter. Church’s face was far more genuine than that of a stranger he was used to having come and go. Church aimed to please, to take what he wanted and </span>
  <em>
    <span>prove </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was good. It had Tucker keening for more, but he was completely on edge in fear of his sister walking in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church’s throat was warm, tight, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was everything Tucker had imagined and </span>
  <em>
    <span>more. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And the cherry on top was the fact that Church </span>
  <em>
    <span>refused </span>
  </em>
  <span>to break eye contact. He looked from under those dark eyelashes, glasses reflecting the light of the kitchen as Tucker slipped a hand into unruly dark hair, soft and clean to the touch. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    Breakfast was a little late, but they made it work. Tucker woke up his sister, having a plate already made for her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The little shit noticed her brother’s hoodie on Church’s frame as he sat at the kitchen table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “You know, you can tell me if you like boys, right? It’s okay to like boys too. You don’t really need to hide this from me. It’s kinda obvious anyway.” Lavender said nonchalantly as she stuffed her face with pancakes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Now listen you little-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Lavender, I need you to just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>tell dad, okay? I don’t really know how he’ll react.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church looked at Tucker with shock on his face, fork frozen in his hand mid bite. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “So he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>your boyfriend?” </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    Church didn’t like labels. Hated them. He felt they had no meaning; he felt like his emotions towards Tucker were far too strong to settle for the word “boyfriend”. Which, yeah, they probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>together now, strings attached and all. But Church felt like it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>more- </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Yes. This train wreck’s my boyfriend. Just- </span>
  <em>
    <span>please </span>
  </em>
  <span>don’t tell dad-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Oh come on, I wouldn’t sell you out, you know that.” She looked across the table at Church, then smiled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>  “I better be a main character in your story, too, by the way.” </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   Tucker didn’t understand, at all. Church didn’t either at first, until he suddenly remembered his conversation with the little gremlin the day before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   About eyes telling your story. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   “Whatever, not in a million years, snot-rag.” </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    It was a lie, of course.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>_____________________</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   When they all finished eating, Church sat on the couch with Tucker on one side and Lavender on the other. She was out like a light; 4 pancakes the size of their face can do that to a 14-year-old little girl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Church was scrolling on his Instagram feed, Tucker watching as he did so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   The house was quiet, comfortably so. The heater kicked up minutes before, shutting out the winter air from outside. They all shared a blanket, fuzzy and warm and perfect. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   Then Church’s eyebrows knit together as his phone vibrates, a notification popping up in the middle of his favorite vine that an account reposted onto their page (He could watch that teacher call the anonymous student’s mother a hoe for throwing a ball of paper for </span>
  <em>
    <span>hours)</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Church clicks the notification, his text messages opening up (which only contained 3 separate chats; Tucker, his sister, and his lawyer). </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Only the text he received was from an unknown number. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Tucker’s eyebrow raised in question; he didn’t read the text right away, but rather decided to ask what it was before he did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   But before Tucker could get a good enough look at it, Church locked his phone in disbelief. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>   “It’s- It’s from my father.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p><br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a train wreck. I’ve had it in my drafts on my computer since November of 2019, because I couldn’t find the motivation to finish. But here we are. It was only supposed to be around 5k but that obviously didn’t happen. It’s 6:30 in the morning here and I’m just glad I finally finished this damn thing. I’m tired. I apologize for any mistakes, I’ve proof read this thing so many times I just got sick of it. Also shout out to TheDiceThrower on Instagram bc they read all of this like 4 times to help me proof read (they have an RVB art account btw). </p><p>I love these boys, and I miss Chorus Tucker. Just feel like they threw away his character development when Sister came back. Nothing against her, she’s a bad bitch and I’m in love with her added backstory. I just don’t like... them. I dunno. Just my opinion. </p><p>And no. Tucker doesn’t say bow chicka bow wow even once in this because I thought that phrase was so goddamn annoying in RVB (lowkey used to hate Tucker, he was damned annoying for a while). So sorry for the lack of iconic lines. </p><p>And yes, there will be a sequel. This story was pretty centered on Tucker’s family. But the next one will be more on Church’s family and his personal issues with past relationships. Everything that was mentioned about Church’s life and family will have a bigger meaning in the next story. </p><p> </p><p>And I fucking forgot the fact that as a college student they would have exams at this time of setting. I was way too tired to add that bc I know myself; I would’ve added an extra 3k words that I d o n t need. </p><p>There’s really not enough Chucker content. And the title of this fic is a play on the song lyrics for No One by Trocadero (that’s all I fucking listened to while writing this shit show oh my g o d)</p><p>And I’m fucking stoked for season 18. But if it sucks, I’ll probably be done with new RVB content. The last 3 seasons haven’t been that great for me (Grif, Simmons, Wash and Locus were the only reasons why I kept watching). If Grimmons isn’t canon this season what’s the point. </p><p> </p><p>Comments are appreciated, hope you enjoyed.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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